Same Destination, Different Journey
by AJ Freas
Summary: It all starts with 'what if'. What if the trio aren't in Gryffindor? What if Harry is sorted in to Slytherin? And so it begins with an eleven year old boy with emerald eyes and a lightning bolt scar on his way to live a life he didn't even know existed. *this story covers Harry's first 2 years at Hogwarts*
1. Beginnings

Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy, is like many boys his age that live in Surrey: an awkward, excitable, impressionable young man. Unlike the average boy growing up in Surrey, Harry is a wizard. Yes, Harry is wizard, a magical person that can cast spells and fly a broom and do other impressive feats that Harry can't even imagine himself doing, but he's one of them. This rather important bit of information is something that he didn't know until a month ago on his eleventh birthday when he first met Rubeus 'Keeper of Keys and Groundskeeper' Hagrid, but his family knew. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, the Dursleys, they knew.

Distractedly peering out the window Harry is called by a departing Ron Weasley, the red headed boy he shared a train car with on the ride from London. The train is arriving at Hogsmeade Station to allow the students to disembark and continue their journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, their final destination. Harry has no idea what is in store for him, but it has to be better than what he's had, right? He turns to exit the car and joins the others in the aisle while the train comes to a complete stop.

His mind is reasoning with him as he shuffles off the train mixed in with hundreds, maybe thousands, of other students. Students like him; wizards and witches the lot of them. He's part of a wizarding community. The idea of it has him a bit overwhelmed. For once he fits in, not a freak like his family claims. Just like on this train, he's just another kid. Okay people recognize him, know his name; he has a scar, sure, but he can't possibly be the Boy-Who-Lived. He doesn't even know what that means; they're just words as far as Harry is concerned.

How can this silly scar mean so much to people? He's had it his whole life as far as he can remember but he's nothing special. His guardians made that point very clear to him over the past eleven years of his short life. Uncle Vernon strove to ensure he was compliant and knew his place. Aunt Petunia's sole purpose in life, her reason for living, is to dote on her beloved son. Her life revolves around his cousin Dudley, not giving Harry much thought other than to keep him busy with chores, out of sight and quiet as to not disturb her family. It was simply his lot in life so this... this Boy-Who-Lived business, must be someone else.

"First years, this way!" A voice calls out. Something pokes at his memory. He knows that voice, only he can't get over his excitement to pay it much mind. Staring wide eyed, Harry turns on the spot with a gleeful grin plastered on his face. This is it, the start of a new life, a fresh beginning. No more Dursleys, no more cousin Dudley, no more Uncle Vernon, no more Aunt Petunia, no more abuse at their hands... at least until summer. Harry shakes his head. No, he won't fret over that until the time comes for him to leave here to head back to London. There's just too much newness and he doesn't want to miss out on a thing. Closing his eyes, Harry lifts his face to the brisk night air and inhales deeply. Freedom. It smells so sweet.

"First years, line up 'ere, if'n y' please!" Hagrid's booming voice breaks through Harry's reverie. "Come along now, down t' the dock." Hagrid leads them along a path down to the water, a looming large shadow of a man with a lantern held high leading the way.

Standing at the water's edge, Hagrid grins down at the mass of students. Harry looks towards the lake and the wide dock behind the giant of a man. A string of small boats await their passengers. Ron stands beside Harry wide eyes and dumbfounded. With his mouth agape, Ron stares up at Hagrid. Having not met the man before, Ron is stunned by the sheer size of Hagrid with wild black hair flowing past his shoulders and a beard just as untamed fanning his broad chest. "Woah!"

Hagrid stares a beat at the gawking boy before grinning at Harry. Hagrid clears his throat, grin gone; he looks around at the gathering students. "Righ' then, four tae a boat. We got a shedule t' keep ta."

Harry looks around for a moment before clamoring into a boat, taking a seat beside his new friend, Ron, and joined by two others he met briefly on the train: Hermione Granger, the bushy haired girl who fixed his glasses and the boy who lost his toad named Neville, the boy, not the toad. They gawk at the hill high before them across the lake. The sight is breathtaking, with darkening skies behind the silhouette of Hogwarts castle with its twinkling lights beckoning them in welcome.

His stomach is in knots of excitement. So much has happened in such a short time. From Hagrid's rescue, to the discovery that he's not just a freak as his relatives claim; he is actually a wizard, a real life wizard! Then there was his introduction to the wizarding world, shopping in Diagon Alley, meeting new potential friends and now Hogwarts. He feels almost light headed with all the new information he's processing and feels his body sway with the boat.

"Careful. You don't want to touch the water. There are things that live beneath the surface. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History that there is a giant squid that protects the lake." Hermione, the bushy-haired brunette, states with a self assuredness that unsettles Harry.

Harry stares at the inky black depths of the water, seeing nothing but the reflection of the stars above them while he nods slowly, "Alright."

Hermione is rather intimidating. It's her first year, she was born to... what did Hagrid call them? Mud? Mugs? He looks up at the hill again as it grows larger and the night grows darker around them as its shadow overtakes the boats. Hermione's parents knew nothing of magic, are regular people just like the Dursleys. Yet she knows so much already and Harry just feels lost, even with all the information Ron tried to force feed him on the train.

She mentioned a book she read, Harry glances over at Hermione with a growing understanding. That must be it. She's studious. Harry grins at her and looks up just as they dock at Hogwarts. Okay, so of the folks he's met so far, the Weasleys, Neville, Granger, Malfoy and his goons; he should have some help getting his feet under him in this new world. He'll simply need to be cautious until he-

Hagrid's large fist pounds on the large door with such a racket it breaks through Harry's musings. Harry grins up at the giant man and remembers how kind he was to him, how patient and caring. Right then, Harry has one more friend to add to his growing list, although Malfoy and his two bodyguards can surely be kept off the list of Harry's potential friends. A small shudder runs through Harry at the memory of their brief encounter and has a sudden urge to find Ron's rat a bit of cheese for his brave act of interference between him and Malfoy.


	2. The Sorting

**Sorting**

Answering Hagrid's knocking summons is a thin, elderly woman with flowing robes, a severe frown, square glasses and a pointy hat. Her gaze sweeps across the children and lands on Hagrid, nodding once in greeting, "Hagrid."

"Professor," Hagrid grins awkwardly with a small bow of his own head in deference. With amused twinkling eyes, he ambles away leaving the students in the care of this woman, the Professor. Harry turns to watch the giant man moving back towards the boats before his attention is demanded elsewhere.

Standing at the open door, she doesn't need to raise her voice to be heard, she simply speaks with distinction and clarity to the group of first years crowding around the entrance to the castle. "I am Professor McGonagall."

Professor McGonagall steps back opening the door wider so the students can gather in the Entrance Hall, which they do eagerly with a soft buzz of excitement and anticipation. With her eyes flitting from student to student, Professor McGonagall continues. "You will be joining the rest of the students shortly, but before you are allowed to take your seats among them in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses."

Clearing her throat before continuing, Professor McGonagall watches the students gather around to listen, "There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. These houses will be your home, your family and those you will attend classes with until graduation.

"Line up, please, and follow me." Professor McGonagall turns on her heel moving forward with an underlying grace, robes swishing softly around her ankles. The first-year students follow anxiously behind her through a large stone hallway. The floor is stone, as are the tall walls and high ceilings, shades of gray with lighter gray mortar strategically lit path by wall sconces of dancing flames atop torches. Gaping nervously at a large door when they pass, noting buzzing activity behind it the students keep pace with her. Professor McGonagall leads them past this large ominous door into a small room just beyond it.

Feeling a bit anxious in this dim, and rather gloomy room. Harry looks around silently. His mind is still reeling with all of these new sights, smells and sounds as the students crowd forward to hear further instructions. "You will wait here _quietly_…" Stressing that last word, Professor McGonagall looks around at the students, "until we're ready for you."

With that said, Professor McGonagall leaves them. As the door she exits closes behind her, the door at the other end of the room closes leaving the students surrounded by a silence that weighs heavily on them.

Harry looks at his hands folded before him, his mind reeling with questions, always more questions. He's a wizard, there is a whole wizarding community, Hogwarts is a wizarding school and some how he fits into this society. Brilliant. He's sorted that bit out. Now this new life he is expected to fit into is fascinating and a bit daunting, to say the least. Giant sized men with pink umbrellas, tiny men with colorful top hats, stuttering professor with a purple turban and all of this is accepted as perfectly normal without a thought of what others may think of them.

Standing in a room filled with students his age, all wearing black robes, and carrying wands. Harry runs a hand down his own robe with a small grin. Flowing robes of all things, such an oddity in itself, really and it's the school uniform. Harry's robes were fitted for him specifically. His grin widens. Harry has something new for a change. Right then; new robes, new life, and a new fascinating world that he has no business being in. Harry's grin fades quickly. Others knew of him, no one knows him. Harry can be something here and not simply a nuisance, a liability, a nothing freak as Uncle Vernon took pleasure in reminding him.

Someone gasps in shock and fear breaking Harry from his musings, another joins in and another as the sound travels from the back of the room forward. Every head turns to see what the commotion is about noting a few oblivious ghosts making their way towards the door Professor McGonagall had closed behind her. Harry's heart is hammering in his chest with mingling fear and excitement until one ghost brushes past him causing him to shiver violently at the contact.

One of the ghosts, a rather round man in what appears to be a plain robe with a balding pate glances absently behind him and does a sudden double take in utter surprise. He sputters for a moment interrupting the conversation the three were having with his sudden exclamation, "New students!" The small band of ghosts stop in their floating tracks and round on the students with amusement and interest smiling fondly at the first years bidding them welcome. The round one speaks first, "I'm the Friar, Hufflepuff is my house. I-"

Interrupting introductions, Professor McGonagall enters as abruptly as she left. With a raised eyebrow directed at the gathered ghosts, she silently waits for them to leave before addressing the students. "You will enter the Great Hall in a single line, stay in said line until called upon. Once your name is called you will be seated upon the stool and sorted."

The process sounds simple enough, but Harry is still wary. Professor McGonagall monitors them carefully noting every pair of eyes are directed at her before continuing, "Then, and only then, will you join your House at their table."

Harry doesn't look around him. He has opted to concentrate on not falling on his face while following Ron into the Great Hall. He is vaguely aware of a table to his left and murmuring around them, not looking up until they came to a stop and turned towards their right. His first view of the Great Hall has him gazing in wide eyed wonder at the sheer size and splendor. A ceiling as black as night, with twinkling stars and floating candles, cavernous room with four long tables filled with students of various shapes, ages and sizes, wearing black flowing robes and pointed hats and directly before them waiting is a simple wooden stool bearing a simple yet odd patched pointed hat.

The odd patched hat perched on the wooden stool suddenly perks up and speaks. Much to Harry's surprise, the Sorting Hat breaks into song with a scratchy old rickety voice which suits the hat rather well. It sings of Houses, sorting and expectations and Harry's mind wanders to the Houses and what they stand for. Gryffindor House emphasises courage, chivalry, bravery; Ravenclaw House emphasises learning, wisdom, wit, intellect; Hufflepuff House emphasises hard-working, loyalty, honesty; and Slytherin House emphasises ambition, cunning, leadership. Harry isn't sure he fits in with any of these.

With the song ended and a parchment in hand, Professor McGonagall has taken to calling out names. Each student sits on the stool, has the Sorting Hat plopped on their head and the hat will do… whatever it is the Sorting Hat does. Harry peers at the Sorting Hat as it sorts student after student. A House shouted, the student sorted, the corresponding table would cheer and the process is repeated. Professor McGonagall calls out for the next student, "Granger, Hermione."

Harry recognizes the name of the bushy haired girl from the train. He watches the awkward girl clutch at her stomach, nervous and anxious as she cautiously sits on the stool. Hermione flinches when the Sorting Hat is placed on her head. Harry notices that some students take longer than others to sort and wonders again what the Sorting Hat is doing exactly, other than the obvious which is shouting out House names. "Ravenclaw!"

Hermione beams happily, her corresponding table erupts in cheers and she quickly makes her way down to join them. The girl is in a much different frame of mind after the sorting than before. Harry scratches his chin, wondering once more where he'll go. He isn't stupid, but if someone as bright as Hermione is what they're looking for in Ravenclaw, chances are Harry won't be sorted there. Gryffindor is out, he is far from brave or chivalrous, Hufflepuff calls for honesty and if he were truly honest then Harry would say he probably belongs in Slytherin only he doesn't feel very cunning at the moment and he is no leader.

Fear suddenly grips Harry as Professor McGonagall calls out once again, "Potter, Harry."

The murmuring and buzzing is almost deafening throughout the Great Hall. His fear is quickly replaced by annoyance. He wants to scream at the room, 'Yes, I'm Harry Potter, now stop gawking!' but he doesn't. The last thing Harry wants is to give them something more to whisper about. With a deep calming breath Harry makes his way to the waiting stool, slides onto the stool and closes his eyes as the Sorting Hat is promptly plopped unceremoniously upon his head.

His thoughts swim as he feels the hat do its magic. The Sorting Hat speaks to Harry's mind while prodding his thoughts, "Hmm, curious…"

Harry frowns at this comment. The same word was used by the wandmaker back at Diagon Alley. He wonders what is so bloody curious this time and the Sorting Hat responds as if he spoke the question aloud. "It is _curious_ how you could seemingly belong to more than one house. You could go to Gryffindor but really it wouldn't serve your potential as well as Slytherin will. It's all right here. Your ambitions are strong, your need to prove yourself, the desire to succeed, true Slytherin if I've ever seen one."

Yet the Sorting Hat hesitates, "Still you're hard-working and accepting like a Hufflepuff, I see that here, too. Hmmm, curious indeed."

Harry groans, 'not Hufflepuff.' He thinks again and again. He can't possibly be sorted there for cripes sakes.

"No? Not Hufflepuff? Right then," says the Sorting Hat, "Then there is no question where you belong." Harry can feel it sorting through his recent musings, newly acquired friends, potential friends, potential enemies, ideals, his plans for his future. Harry jumps in surprise when the Sorting Hat finally cries out his House to the Great Hall, "Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat is lifted from his head and he receives polite cheers and a few sneers from his House. He stares at Draco while sliding off the stool, the contempt and ridicule directed his way is almost as thick as the sheer shock from the other tables, especially the Gryffindors. He glances at the Weasley twins, noting their dual opened mouthed stares and gives a half-hearted shrug before taking a seat with the others at the Slytherin table.

The round faced girl with black hair beside him peers at him as if searching for something. His scar most likely, Harry reasons in his mind. She too is a first year but her name escapes Harry. He wasn't paying attention when her name was called. She smiles at Harry but it is short lived and they return their attention to the rest of the sorting.

It comes as no surprise to Harry or anyone else that knows the Weasley family, when Ron is immediately sorted into Gryffindor. When Ron hops off the stool, he glances at Harry and pretty much shrugs like Harry had towards the twins. Harry smirks at him and gives him a small nod of understanding. That is that, he supposes. Students in different houses aren't friends, at least not easily. Or are they? Can that work? He needs to make friends but more importantly keep the friends he makes. The last sorted student takes the last available seat beside Harry. Harry gives him a small grin and nod which is returned indifferently.

Harry only half hears the Headmaster stand and address the students until he hears the word 'die' followed by 'horribly'. He stares at the man hoping beyond hope that he's only kidding, yet it doesn't seem likely. The table the first years were standing before is apparently filled with professors; Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, who slides in her seat beside him, and many others. Scanning the table with his emerald eyes, he spots Professor Quirrell near the other end with his odd purple turban speaking animatedly, his hands flailing often. Harry's lip curls of its own accord remembering the man's tendency to stutter with hands wringing while he spoke to him at the Leaky Cauldron. It was during this self amused moment that Harry unintentionally makes eye contact with the black haired professor listening to Professor Quirrell's ramblings. The man's eyes harden with disapproval and Harry's half grin drops immediately along with his gaze.

Can wizards read minds? Did the black haired professor know he was laughing at Professor Quirrell? Is that what his look meant? Food magically appears on the table and the aroma is intoxicating. He hasn't really eaten all day and is now famished. Momentarily distracted, Harry forgets about the professors and feels his stomach rumble in protest. Still he waits to see what the others do before helping himself.

The food is tasty, excellent really, and it isn't simply because Harry is half starved either. Harry is bringing his fork to his mouth for another bite when he feels eyes upon him. Glancing up, Harry is once again making eye contact with the dark haired professor. Harry lowers his fork an inch or more and sits up straighter, doing his best not to quail under the man's harsh glare directed at him. It isn't until a sharp pain lances him, stemming from the scar on his forehead and blinding him in the whiteness of agony that he tears his eyes away.

Harry's fork drops from his fingers, clattering against the plate as his hand flies to his forehead. Hissing in pain, he closes his eyes against the onslaught. "Are you mental?"

Hearing the question, Harry smirks openly. "Not entirely," He rubs his scar and looks at the boy to his right. The dark skinned boy is looking at him skeptically and Harry blatantly points at his scar. "I just got this sudden, sharp jolt of blinding pain."

The boy's eyes remain on Harry's forehead while he listens intently an amused smirk plays on his lips. "How droll." Chuckling he extends his hand, "The name's Zabini, Blaise Zabini."

Harry accepts his hand and they shake rather firmly, much to Harry's surprise. "Harry P-"

"Potter, yes, everyone knows." Blaise returns to his dinner and shoots a look at Harry, "You're not what I expected. You probably hear that a lot."

"You'd be surprised." Harry doesn't elaborate. He picks up his fork only to realize he's not quite as hungry as he was moments ago and sets it back down. He takes his pumpkin juice and sips at it, glancing around the tables over the rim. All three of the other tables are loud with laughter and animated conversations. Ravenclaw appears to have a few heated debates among its students. Hufflepuff is the calmest of the three, girls giggling behind hands or possibly whispering. Harry isn't sure which and isn't sure he cares. Gryffindor is the loudest, the twins have a small audience around them and the laughter can be heard ringing throughout the whole Hall.

In comparison, Slytherin appears to be a rather comatose Houses. Harry looks along the table noting several heated conversations held in hushed undertones. Others speak quietly, chuckling at something someone says, others are simply busy in their own thoughts, much like Harry was, until the girl beside him speaks to him for the first time. "Millicent Bulstrode," She doesn't offer a hand, nor does Harry care to touch it if she had. There is something odd about this girl. She's not hostile, per se, yet she's cold and aloof. Again her eyes rake over Harry's face and he suddenly feels dirty.

"Harry." He doesn't bother saying 'Potter', he figures she already knows that bit.

During Harry's musings, dessert had made its appearance. Millicent takes another bite of her ice cream and looks at Harry again. "I didn't expect you to be in Slytherin, all things considering."

"Meaning?" Harry's eyebrow rises instantly as he tries to clamp down on the irritation in his voice, missing the mark. The one word has more bite than he intended but Harry justifies his reaction internally. After all, Harry was sorted into Slytherin, he _does_ belong. How dare this girl tell him otherwise?

Millicent smirks openly. An odd look for such a round face, "On account your parents were both in Gryffindor." Millicent takes another bite of ice cream waiting for Harry's reaction.

Harry stares at the glass in his hand and sets it down gently. He didn't know that. He knew his parents were students at Hogwarts, but never knew what House they were in. Heck, Harry never thought to ask Hagrid, didn't even know enough about Hogwarts to ask such a question. Harry struggles to regulate his reaction, not wanting to give away too much and manages a half shrug and not much more. He swallows hard before attempting a response keeping his voice even, "Everybody in the wizarding world seems to know about me and my parents. Maybe it is time to change things, change what they think they know about me. I'm not just the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and I am more than a scar."

With carefully measured movements, he takes a treacle tart from a nearby platter. Harry begins savoring it, chewing slowly, noting the nods of agreement to his declaration. Bold words, now to follow through, and if Harry is to be perfectly honest, he has no idea how he will accomplish this.


	3. Respect

Note: I sorted out all known students, of all mentioned Slytherins in Harry's year, there were two with only last names, I used one of the last names, created a first and poof! Harry & Blaise have a roommate. Enter Jason Vaisey.

* * *

**Respect**

So far his first week at Hogwarts has been interesting and enlightening; from gaining two roommates, the eerily green lit chilly - yet surprisingly comfortable - common room, eclectic House mates and various classes, to nosey students, to odd professors and fascinating curriculum. If it weren't for the students still pointing at him and whispering about him, Harry could honestly say he's enjoying his Hogwarts experience so far. Well, most of the time. Draco has decided he hates Harry and Harry has decided Draco is too much like cousin Dudley, in other words just a big bully. At least animosity is not shown outside the common room… much… something about House unity while among outsiders.

It's Friday morning and Harry's stomach is in knots as he picks at his eggs and sausage, effectively pushing the contents on his plate towards the center. Sounding rather put out, a heavy exaggerated sigh gets his attention. Harry's mouth presses into a thin line of annoyance before he just has to ask, "What did I do this time?"

Blaise nods towards Harry's plate. "Don't play with your food. You eat it or you leave it alone. As one of my roommates your inadequate manners reflect on me. "

Rolling his eyes, Harry harrumphs. Blaise constantly has something to say about Harry's lacking abilities. Either about his appearance, the way he carries himself or his manners. Jason Vaisey, their other roommate, is average all around, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. "You never get on Vaisey's case."

"Vaisey knows how to dress, behave and has impeccable manners." Blaise sets his fork down and tries unsuccessfully to hide his disapproving frown. "Listen Harry, since your parents weren't able to teach you and your aunt and uncle obviously didn't bother, I guess it's up to me."

Harry thought about objecting, even opened his mouth to do so, but how would he? Blaise has a point. Harry's mouth snaps closed as he reflects on what Blaise said. Harry has basic manners, but wizarding etiquette is another thing entirely. Besides, Blaise is well mannered, well spoken, confident, carefree with black hair, sparkling brown eyes and manicured nails. Harry is awkward, skinny with a mop of unruly black hair, green eyes that are hidden behind glasses and stubby nails that he bites down to the nubs. Blaise may be a snob, but he's a classy snob and despite this, or because of this, people genuinely like him. Harry sets a firm rule before agreeing. "Okay, but just remember I'm not a baby. So, no yelling at me."

"I don't yell. I raise my voice when I need to…" Blaise smirks at the scowl on Harry's face. "Fine, no yelling. Sit up, both feet flat on the floor, heels touching the legs of your chair. Bring your fork to your mouth, not your mouth to your fork. Once we get those down we'll move on to trickier things, like walking and talking." He gets a contemplative look on his face that has Harry worried. "Don't fidget."

"Then don't look at me like that." Harry objects to the sudden anxious squirming in his belly.

Blaise frowns at Harry, "You're not eating."

"You're looking at me weird!" Harry grabs his fork and spears a sausage only to stop mid-bite. He sets the fork down and answers honestly. "We have double potions today with Professor Snape. I dunno if anyone's noticed but any time he looks at me, he looks mad or like he hates me."

"Professor Snape doesn't like anyone, it's his nature. Besides, he is the Head of Slytherin House. So, as long as you don't do anything stupid, you'll be fine." Blaise simply waves off his concerns as the owls arrive with mail.

Hedwig makes her way towards him and startles Harry with his first bit of mail ever. It's from Hagrid and he's invited Harry to tea. Harry hasn't had a chance to speak with Hagrid since his arrival at Hogwarts. It would be wise to keep in touch with him if he's to keep on friendly terms with the giant. His mind quickly goes over his schedule for the day and turns the parchment over to scribble a response to Hagrid. In careful script he thanks Hagrid and agrees to meet him after classes, sending Hedwig off with his answer.

Blaise takes a last bite of his eggs before washing it down with pumpkin juice. "Finish up, we have to get to class."

Harry nudges his plate away and finishes his pumpkin juice. "I can't eat." He pushes away from the table and Blaise scowls. "What?"

"Use your napkin." Blaise dabs at his own mouth and drops his napkin on his plate before pushing away from the table. "You may be more work than you're worth, Potter."

Rolling his eyes, Harry makes exaggerated movements to dab at his own mouth before tossing the napkin on the table. "C'mon, we're gonna be late."

They aren't actually late; they are early which, in Professor Snape's mind, means they are on time… barely. This particular morning finds Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses jointly lined outside the potions classroom door, with Slytherin lined up on the left, Gryffindor to the right. Unfortunately for Harry many of the Gryffindors gawk and point.

Blaise keeps his voice low. His cold gaze lazily skims past Gryffindor students as if he's utterly bored. "Ignore them, they're beneath you."

Taking his words to heart, Harry does his best to bury his anxiety. He refuses to show his discomfort knowing he'll be teased later by Draco for showing any weakness in front of another class. Harry can't let Draco get the upper hand. Harry's eyes boldly scan down the line of students daring them to speak to him until he meets Ron's amused gaze. A small grin threatens to overtake Harry's calm façade and Ron gives a small nod of acknowledgement. "Heya, Harry."

"Weasley," Harry nods once, responding in kind which elicits a new wave of whispers and murmurs, thankfully directed at Ron this time.

Blaise gives Harry a piercing look with a raised eyebrow and Harry allows his grin to manifest at last. "Does it bother you that I am on friendly terms with a Gryffindor?"

"Can't say, really, seeing how I don't know the bloke. Just surprised is all." Blaise's thoughts are interrupted as the classroom doors are flung open allowing the students to enter and take a seat in a similar fashion to their lining up outside of the classroom with Slytherin on the left, Gryffindor on the right.

Harry takes a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom next to Theodore Nott, a sandy blond haired boy, surprisingly thin like Harry. Harry didn't want to be too close to Professor Snape yet didn't want to look like a coward by taking a seat in the back. Theodore looks nonplussed yet indifferent as Harry joins him. His pale blue eyes meet Harry's emerald eyes for a beat and Harry holds his breath until Theodore blinks. Harry slowly lets his breath out in relief.

Without a word, Theodore goes back to twirling his quill and stares at the parchment before him. Harry brings out his parchment and quill setting his bag on the floor. Harry steals another glance at Theodore and his quill stops moving. Theodore's voice is low, reluctant and Harry strains to hear him, "We'll never be friends, Potter. It would never work."

Before Harry can respond, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise with the odd feeling of being watched. Harry glances behind him as Professor Snape enters making him one of the few students that doesn't jump when the doors slam closed behind the professor. With his robes billowing in his wake, Professor Snape strides quickly to the front of the classroom, his upper lip curls into a sneer, his eyes black as onyx scan the room. With a dramatic flair, he pulls his robes closed before him, folding his arms across his chest and settles his cold gaze on Harry for merely a moment.

Harry has been holding his breath again, letting it out slowly once Professor Snape's attention is drawn elsewhere and he begins speaking to the classroom. Professor Snape's voice is a low, deep baritone that floats across the room with ease, captivating his students and sending a chill of foreboding in more than just a few Gryffindor students. Harry watches and listens in fascination, his gaze flicking quickly towards Ron and his Housemates noting the fear in their collective gazes.

The class goes smoother than Harry had hoped; being in Slytherin makes potions and Professor Snape tolerable. He's survived the first class of many to come. There is a soft buzz of voices discussing plans for the weekend, homework, their next class. Theodore hesitates for only a second before grabbing his bag and slipping away. A small emptiness finds its way into Harry's belly. "Mr. Potter."

Harry's head snaps up, "Yes, sir?" Harry discreetly wipes the nervous sweat from his palms.

"Stay." Professor Snape doesn't elaborate, yet he still has that annoyed glare and Harry feels his head nodding before her remembers to respond properly.

Swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, Harry's voice is almost steady. "Yes, sir."

Harry puts his belongings in his bag and waits until the room is clear. Slowly he walks to the front of the class, face to face with the man who hates him, if the disgusted look directed at Harry is anything to go by. So much for a tolerable professor, Harry's hopes are dashed by Professor Snape's icy glare. "Mr. Potter, I expect you to be respectful at all times. I do not care about your celebrity status as that will not get you higher marks in my class."

'Celebrity status' isn't Harry's idea and he'd be more than happy to give it up if he could trade that for his parents to be alive. Harry wants to say all this and possibly more, but doesn't dare. Blaise's words hold Harry's tongue: 'So, as long as you don't do anything stupid, you'll be fine.' Heeding Blaises' advice, Harry's grip on his bag simply tightens and he chokes on his response. "Yes, sir."

Professor Snape's eyebrow twitches in either amusement or surprise, Harry isn't sure which. With his arms crossed, Professor Snape leans back on his desk. "As a Slytherin, you are in my House. Suffice it to say, I expect much more from my students than the other Heads do; exemplary behavior, impeccable manners and excellent marks. There is to be no fighting amongst my House, any issues will be dealt with in a proper manner. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Harry wonders what he has done to be singled out for this tete-a-tete, chalking it up to the 'celebrity status'.

Their eyes battle once again; Harry wonders if he'll win this time when his gaze drops to the slight movement along Professor Snape's jaw. _Damn_. Harry curses silently. By the time he looks back up, Professor Snape's black eyes are looking past him towards the door. "Dismissed, Mr. Potter."

Letting a small sigh of relief die in his throat, Harry takes a tentative step backwards. "Yes, sir."

The classroom doors close behind him and Harry sags, trembling against the hallway wall. "Brilliantly done, Potter."

Harry looks up at Blaise with a lopsided grin, "I thought I was going to be sick, choking on my words like that."

"Still, you didn't get detention, you didn't raise your voice, you didn't argue. There's hope for you yet." Blaise laughs when Harry rolls his eyes at him. "C'mon then, let's get some lunch."

Walking from the dungeons to the Great Hall, Harry glances behind them reflectively. "As odd as it may sound, I wouldn't mind being more like him."

"Hated unanimously by three Houses, called names behind your back, rumors of all sorts spread at your expense?" Blaise shakes his head. "Not me."

"I already have that now. Most of the students are either afraid of me or hate me, call me all sorts of stupid things without even knowing me first and the rumors… well the few I've heard were pretty lame or stupid. What I don't have is his mannerisms, his confidence, the way he demands respect just by walking in a room. Instills fear with a glance." Harry shakes his head, "That is what I want."

"No one is afraid of a first year, Potter. You'll get into too many fights if you tried to be like him. Better to be you first." Blaise takes a seat at the Slytherin table.

"Me…" Harry scoffs, "be me? I don't even know who that is."


	4. Midnight Duel

**Midnight Duel**

Mumbling under his breath, Harry walks as quickly and quietly as he can manage. It's amazing how different the halls look in the dead of night. During the day, there is sunshine dancing along the walls and paintings. At night the paintings look hollow and dead. The shadows alone cast eerie depths to walls and floors, adding an air of despair. Harry shudders at that thought, mentally reprimanding himself for thinking 'dead' at this moment. Dead is what he will be if he gets caught. Dead is what Ron will be if Harry doesn't get to him first. His thoughts propel him forward, moving swiftly through the shadows. Harry's heart is racing, pounding loudly in his chest as he sucks as much air as he can in his lungs. Just another hallway and he should reach the trophy room.

Blast Draco and his silly power games. Getting Harry and Draco thrown in detention for riding around on their brooms without permission and proper supervision was bad enough but to go to these lengths in hopes of getting Ron expelled is just too far. A grin tugs at Harry; flying was brilliant though. He never felt so free and in control. First time on a broom and Harry was able to keep up with Draco, such a rush. Professor McGonagall just didn't seem to appreciate the sheer joy, the freedom and-

Harry comes to an abrupt stop and backs against the wall with his heart hammering in his chest. He can hear Ron's voice as he bickers with someone in harsh whispers. The sound of that bloody cat soon follows, but not from the same direction. Mr. Filch is somewhere behind him carrying on a conversation with his cat, Mrs. Norris. His stomach lurches and he speeds forward before it is too late.

"Weasley," Harry hisses as he enters the trophy room. "You've been set up. Come on, Filch and Mrs. Norris are coming!"

Ron's gaze sweeps past Harry in a moment's confusion. "Harry? Where's-"

"No time now. I'll explain when we're safe." Harry tugs at Ron's sleeve, briefly glancing at the other two boys accompanying Ron. One looks vaguely familiar as the name Trevor comes to mind. Harry shakes his head to clear his thoughts and they run out of the room just moments before Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris enter from another door.

"I know there are students out tonight, Mrs. Norris. It's just a matter of finding them…" Mr. Filch, the old, decrepit caretaker's scratchy cackling voice follows them. His words and tone give the impression that Mr. Filch is smiling. The notion of a smiling Mr. Filch causes Harry to shudder with revulsion.

"Harry, what's going on?" Ron's frown causes his brow to furrow giving an impression of a ginger caterpillar across his forehead. The boys are in an unfamiliar hallway, gasping for breath and trying to get their bearings.

"Malfoy set you up. I heard him in the common room and-" All four boys stand still, holding their breath, straining to listen to the faint sound of Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris. "They're coming. Quick, in there." Harry points at the only door in this part of the hallway sitting ominously in elongated shadows.

The door at the end of the hallway is their only chance, yet as they reach it their impending doom crashes upon them. "It's locked!" The boy, is he Trevor? No, Harry shakes his head, his toad is Trevor. He remembers him from the train and the ride over on the boats. Harry met him shortly after Hermione brilliantly fixed his glasses.

"Then open it." When the others stare blankly at him, Harry sighs heavily, pushing past them and pulling his wand to point it at the door. "_Alohomora_."

The four boys scramble into the room and push the door closed behind them. Silently pressing against the wood listening as footsteps echo through the hall they just vacated.

"I'm Seamus." Harry turns with a start and gives a stilted nod in the heavily Irish accented boy's direction. Seamus appears to be satisfied with his introduction, if the silly grin plastered on his face is any indication. He isn't that different from Harry with his mop hair, only Seamus is shorter and stockier than Harry with brown hair and blue eyes.

Not for the first time this evening Harry questions his actions. He leans against the doorframe and peers at Ron. "I don't really know why I came. What Malfoy tried to do was wrong. At least when I got detention it was for something I did. Not for some lie."

Harry quickly looks at the last boy. He was of average height, sandy blond hair, blue eyes and a bit rounder in the face than Harry and still he can't remember the boy's name, "It is bugging me. We met on the train, you have a toad named Trevor. We even sat in the boats over together yet for the life of me I can't-" Harry peers at him trying to remember the boy's name as another memory pops into his head. The flying lesson, the boy who was hurt, the glass ball Malfoy found, the impromptu flying and Harry's fabulous catch that even surprised him. The ball was smooth and surprisingly warm to the touch, the ball was this boy's... "Remembrall." Harry remembers plenty sans the boy's bloody name.

Blushing he nods slowly, "Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom, right," Harry makes an effort to remember his name this time, "you fell in class. You're okay then?" Harry's eyes look him over once while he speaks noting no bandages.

Neville looks surprised at the question. "Loads better, I-"

Seamus presses into them and gives a strangled cry of horror stumbling for the door as the snarling grows louder. "M-monster!"

True to Seamus' rambling hysterics, there is a monster coming at them. A three headed monstrosity with gaping-snarling-gnashing-drooling maws filled with long sharp teeth. One of the four students manages to open the door allowing them to come spilling out of the room and with great effort they manage to close it again.

Running with gusto, the four make their way towards the castle entrance and familiar ground. Gasping for breath, Harry shakes his head, waving them off. "I'm..." He tries again, "Going to... bed."

Harry's mind is still racing through the events of the evening at breakfast. Blaise gives him a questioning glance, "I'm guessing you weren't caught last night, wherever you were off to."

Ron, Seamus and Neville come rushing into the Great Hall and plop into seats at the Gryffindor table. Only Harry isn't watching them, he's watching with quiet satisfaction the stunned and annoyed look on Draco's face before it can be hidden by his usual sneer and indifference. Blinking, Harry brings his attention to his roommate, "Why do you say that?"

"No points were missing from Slytherin this morning." Blaise glances from Draco to the Gryffindor table and back to Harry. "I feel a story here. Care to share?"

"Not exactly but I do have a bit of information that is pretty fascinating." Harry lowers his voice and folds his hands on the table. "On the third floor, there is a huge three headed dog, and when I say huge, I mean the thing is so big it barely fits in a room."

"Here? In Hogwarts?" Blaise's voice rises an octave before he clears his throat. He hisses in a whisper trying not to get anyone else's attention. "What is a monster like that doing here?"

"Guarding something." Harry picks up his glass of pumpkin juice, pausing with the glass inches from his lips, whispering conspiratorially, "There was a trap door under its left paw."

They fall into silence, both lost in thought. Blaise peers at Harry, "I wonder if it has anything to do with that break-in at Gringotts."

Harry jolts almost spilling his pumpkin juice. "I forgot about that and the small package that Hagrid took from that very vault earlier the same day. I should make another visit to my giant friend."

Blaise does a poor job in hiding his disgust and Harry huffs. "I don't care that he is a giant or... whatever he is, he's dirty and unkempt. Disgusting manners," Blaise holds his hand out to quiet Harry's rebuff. "I know he's your friend but it doesn't mean _I _have to like him."

"Fair enough," Harry puts his glass down on the table and dabs his mouth with his napkin. "I won't ask you to go with me, his hut is worse than his manners and he has a dog, Fang. Large slobbering beast, you'd hate him."

Smirking, Blaise nods in agreement, "You're probably right."

Looking around the Great Hall one last time, today being Saturday, Harry comes to a decision. "I'll head down there and pay him a visit."

"Don't forget, study group at the library at two." Blaise reminds him as they make their way out.

"Right," Harry and Blaise part ways at the entrance. Blaise turns right as Harry continues out of the castle onto the grounds. He makes it halfway down the path before the sound of pounding footsteps on gravel is heard behind him. With his hand on his wand, Harry looks back as Ron, Neville and Seamus approach him.

"Harry!" The boys stop and catch their breath, hands on their knees almost doubled over. Seamus is the first to recover, followed by Ron and finally Neville.

"Weasley, Longbottom…" Harry doesn't hide his amusement until the boys manage to stand up again. As soon as he looks at the Irish boy his mind decides to draw a blank again.

"Fin…" Seamus takes a deep breath, "Finnegan."

Harry nods. "Finnegan."

"Just wanted to thank you for last night. I don't know why you did it but it was right nice of you." Neville grins at him and Harry can't help but to grin back.

"You can thank me by not telling anyone that I saved three Gryffindors, especially from a fellow Slytherin." Harry smirks and the others laugh and nod in agreement. He releases his grip on his wand and folds his arms across his chest waiting for them to either continue on or speak.

The three fidget to Harry's amusement, but he doesn't give any other indication of his intentions. Ron finally breaks the awkward silence, "So why do you think there's a huge three headed dog in there?"

Harry pauses in his response, weighing his answer carefully. "I don't know." At least that is mostly true, he knew it was guarding something but what that something is, Harry doesn't know.

"Oh." Ron looks deflated and his shoulder slump more than usual.

Seamus nods down the path. "Where ya off t', Harry?"

"I was on my way to visit Hagrid." Harry bristles at his reaction. Why did he tell him that? It isn't any of their concern what he does or does not do.

"Th' big giant guy with all th' hair?" Seamus' eyes grow wide and he looks down in the general direction of Hagrid's hut. "Blimey, wha' fer?"

"Hagrid is a friend of mine." Harry's eyes grow cold as he sizes up Seamus. "So it isn't just Slytherins you don't like, it's Hagrid, too. Anything else?"

"Wha?" Seamus blinks, bringing his attention back to Harry. His face is a mask of confusion.

Ron shakes his head and waves off Seamus. "That's not what he means. He's scared of Hagrid is all. C'mon, I'll go with you." He turns his attention to the other two. "See you guys later, 'kay?"

"Oh, right. Later, Harry." Neville waves to the two boys and pulls Seamus to join him.

"Bye." Harry watches the two walk back towards the castle for a moment, especially Seamus. "Is he really afraid of Hagrid or were you being a Gryffindor and covering for him?"

Laughing, Ron shakes his head again. "No mate, he's really afraid of Hagrid." The pair continue down the path towards Hagrid's hut. "So that big... dog. Y' think Hagrid knows?"

Harry hides his amusement. Ron is more observant than Harry gave him credit for, or simply got lucky on that guess. "Hagrid loves animals, I wouldn't be surprised if he knows about the hound. He told me back in London that he'd love a dragon of his very own."

Ron harrumphs causing Harry's eyebrow to rise. "Well, that's just stupid. Owning a dragon is illegal for one and according to Charlie even a youngling is dangerous." Harry tilts his head and Ron continues. "Charlie is my brother, he's in Romania and he works with dragons. Raising 'em and caring for them. It's his job." Ron shrugs as if working with dragons is utterly normal much to Harry's fascination.

The boys have arrived at Hagrid's hut, knocked on the door and are awaiting a response. The awkward silence surrounds them as Harry glances back at Ron. A question keeps coming to mind and Harry decides to ask rather than allow it to fester. "Why are you here?"

"I'm a student?" Ron's face shows utter confusion and Harry snorts seeing how Ron asked rather than stated his response.

"Are you sure?" Harry chuckles shaking his head as Ron scratches his. "_Here_, Weasley. Why are you here at Hagrid's with me? We aren't in the same House, aren't you worried one of your pals will see you talking to me and have a fit?"

"Nah, you're Harry _bloody _Potter, probably the only Slytherin in the entire school that anyone in another House could speak to and no one would care." Ron gives a half-hearted shrug and jumps when Hagrid comes around the house mumbling to himself.

"Hello Hagrid," Harry watches Hagrid as he approaches, arms laden with firewood, still mumbling.

Hagrid stops in his tracks and stares momentarily at the boys as if chewing over a very difficult decision. "Ah, 'ello there, 'arry." He peers at Ron for a moment. "A Weasley."

Ron blushes and stammers, "That's right. I'm Ron."

"I figured as much, y' look a might like yer brother Bill. A right good mix of Molly an' Arthur." Nodding, Hagrid gives him a grin, "So wha' can I do fer y'?"

Harry pauses, knowing why he's here but suddenly reluctant to bring it up in front of Ron. Pressing forward he asks anyhow, "Hagrid, there was a thing in the paper about a break in at Gringotts."

His eyes widen ever so slightly, but Hagrid recovers before he can speak only nodding slightly, so Harry continues. "I was wondering if that was the same vault that we visited when you took me to Diagon Alley."

Ron looks questioningly at Harry before returning his attention to Hagrid. Hagrid on the other hand is having a devil of a time looking either boy in the eyes weighing his response carefully. He stands taller and straightens his shoulders, puffing out his chest with his self-importance. "I cannae be tellin' ya wha' was in there. I toldja then, tha' is strictly between Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel."

Hagrid nods as he speaks, as if that should answer all of Harry's questions. Instead it raises more. Harry's eyebrow perks, rising to his hairline. "Nicolas Flamel?"

His assured look drops in a panic, Hagrid mumbles and shakes his head quickly beard flailing like a sail. "I shouldna said tha'."

Harry presses Hagrid further. "Hagrid, who is Nicolas Flamel?"

"Tha' would be Hogwarts business, 'arry." Hagrid forgets he was walking towards his hut and turns himself around to flee the way he came.

Ron runs his fingers through his hair. "What was that about?"

"Not sure." With a shrug Harry turns on his heel, refusing to elaborate and heads back towards the castle. He glances at Ron who had instantly fallen into step beside him. Harry stifles a sigh of annoyance and chooses a different approach to rid himself of this tag along. "I have to head to the library for a study group."

On cue Ron groans at that announcement and Harry looks away to hide his smirk of triumph. "It's Saturday. Why would you wanna study on a Saturday."

"Two reasons: One, I'm a Slytherin and I have to keep my grades up or face Professor Snape's wrath." Harry doesn't bother hiding his smirk at Ron's shudder allowing himself a soft chuckle. "Two, Professor Binns is the most boring professor in this school and staying awake long enough to learn a thing in that class is near impossible. So I need extra time to prepare my homework."

"Well alright then. Put it that way, it makes sense, yeah?" Ron looks up at the castle and back to Harry. "I'll see you later."

"Bye." Harry looks towards the clock tower noting he's early, much too early for the study group at two. Shaking his head he heads towards his room for his book bag. He may as well get a head start on that Magical History homework. Shame none of what he said was a lie, Harry would love to just relax one weekend.

Book bag in hand, Harry pauses at the library tables and looks around for a place to sit. Most tables are full but one has a single girl with a stack of books. Harry peers at the girl, remembering her from the train and makes his way over. "You're Granger, right? Mind if I sit here? The other tables are pretty full."

A brief look of annoyance crosses Hermione's face yet she relents with a small nod. Harry gives her a grateful nod in return and takes a seat. The pair sit quietly minding their own business until Harry groans catching not only Hermione's attention but also her ire. "Must you?"

Sighing, Harry leans his head on his palm, propped on his elbow and explains, "Sorry, I can't help it. This History of Magic is _so _boring."

"I don't think it's boring at all." Harry stares openly at Hermione while she goes into a fifteen minute tirade about the virtues of the class and its teachings, moving towards comparisons of today's society versus a hundred years ago before she stops mid sentence and blushes at his half grin. "I get carried away at times."

"Just a bit." Harry sits up and leans forward, his hands folded on the table, quill and homework long forgotten. "So you manage to stay awake during Professor Binns' lectures." As she nods shyly he shakes his head, "Fascinating. How do you manage? He bores me to tears in the first twenty minutes and yet I learned more from listening to you ramble on than I have from him since beginning of term."

Harry's gaze is so intense, Hermione squirms nervously. "What? Why are you looking at me that way? Do I have something on my face?"

Chuckling, Harry lowers his eyes. "Sorry, thinking actually, only I've not come up with the solution just yet."

"Solution to what?" Hermione's interest is peaked, loving a good riddle as only a true Ravenclaw could.

Harry hides his grin before looking at her in earnest. "Twofold really, have you ever heard the name Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione shakes her head and leans forward anxiously, worrying her bottom lip. "Flamel seems to be wrapped up in a mystery I'm trying to unravel. That's one, the other is I'm not doing so well in Binns' class and could use a tutor. You've a brilliant mind and the obvious solution would be for me to turn to you for help, but I have nothing of interest to offer you in trade."

"I-" Her words cut off as Hermione's gaze travels self-consciously around the library avoiding Harry's eyes taking in his words.

"It's okay. Listen I'm heading to the Great Hall for lunch. I'll talk to you later. Thanks for listening to me and the lesson." Harry gives her a sincere grin, packs his bag and heads to the door leaving Hermione at the table dumbfounded and gaping at his retreating back.

Harry walks back towards the Slytherin common room to ditch his bag; lunch first then study group at two. Grinning to himself, Harry feels his steps lighten as pieces of his plan fall neatly into place.


	5. Halloween

**Halloween**

Decorations in the Great Hall are floating mid-air along with the usual candles. Bobbing, carved pumpkins with grinning open maws flicker with internal light, much to Harry's amusement. "Not that different from Little Whinging."

Blaise scoffs, "Is that right? So, you have floating pumpkins in your little muggle town?"

Chuckling, Harry shakes his head, "No, but we do have the same type of decorations."

Two girls pass by their table and Harry can't help overhear them as he eavesdrops on their gossiping, his interest is piqued when he hears Draco's name tied to Hermione. "Zabini, what is a mudblood?"

"A mudblood is someone with dirty, impure, tainted blood; literally it means muddied blood. Purebloods view muggle borns as the lowest form of wizards and hardly worth our time, believing they should know their place." Blaise pours pumpkin juice in his glass. "The term is quite derogatory, so be very careful who you say it to or near."

Harry grows quiet and stares a moment at his plate, folding his hands on the table while a small grin spreads slowly across his face. Blaise chuckles darkly, "I know that look, Potter. What are you scheming?"

"Two Ravenclaws walked by a minute ago gossiping about Granger crying in the girls bathroom all day. Apparently Malfoy called Granger a mudblood-"

"Granger _is _a mudblood, Potter." Blaise interjects.

Harry waves Blaise off in order to continue. "Not the point. I've heard a few professors call Hermione Granger 'the smartest witch of all first years' and I'm not getting very far on my research alone. I need her." Harry glances past Blaise towards Draco. "If I can somehow use this, maybe I can get her to help me. Malfoy is smart enough not to start fights with me outside the common room, that whole House unity thing. If I'm with Hermione, he will leave her alone." With that, Harry picks up his fork and takes another bite of his dinner, rather pleased with this current plan of action.

"That won't save her when you aren't there." Blaise points out the flaw in his plan.

"Not my problem. I only offer her safety while in my presence." Harry triumphantly takes another bite while Blaise contemplates Harry's proposal, mentally poking and prodding it in search of a flaw.

"It might work." Blaise takes a sip of his pumpkin juice as Professor Quirrell bursts through the Great Hall doors making it halfway down the center before gripping his chest. Professor Quirrell's face contorts with either fear or pain, possibly both.

"Troll! In the dungeon…" Professor Quirrell's voice cracks as he stares wide eyed at the head table, adrenaline spent to get him to this point. "I just thought you ought to know."

With that said, Professor Quirrell crumbles in a heap to the floor where he stood. Students cry out in fear and leap from their seats. Professors also rise quickly and Professor Dumbledore, the school's Headmaster calls out effectively silencing the entire hall. With a booming voice, the sound fills the room. "Silence!"

Once he has everyone's attention he calmly takes control of matters. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to your dormitories immediately." His voice fades as he confers with the other staff at the table.

The Great Hall is in a sudden rush of movement and sounds; from prefects calling out for order, the urgent tones of frightened and intrigued students, to professors directing stragglers to move along. Harry is following and can honestly say he is more intrigued than frightened. Granted, Professor Quirrell said the troll is in the dungeons and Slytherin House is also located in the dungeons, but Harry has never seen a troll and the idea of one being this close is fascinating.

"Think we'll see it on our way?" Harry glances over at Blaise, his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Potter, you don't want to see a troll. Much like your friend Hagrid, they are large and smelly. Unlike Hagrid, they're as dumb as rocks and grunt rather than speak. I am curious how one managed to make it into the castle." Blaise's steps slow as he gazes at Harry. "Curious really, it's been said they're too simple minded for even basic mental reasoning."

Harry looks over his shoulder just as Professor Snape exits with a billowing cape through the back entrance that leads to the small room they had waited in prior to being sorted. "I think Snape is going after the troll."

"Why do you care?" Blaise pulls once on his sleeve to urge him forward before walking away to follow the massive exodus. "He's fully capable to seeing after himself, unlike you."

Frowning Harry takes three more steps and sighs softly. "True…"

"But?" Blaise glances at him questioningly. "What's wrong?"

"Something's not right. I feel as if I'm forgetting something. Something important." Harry and Blaise are at the back end of all of the students just making it out of the Great Hall when it finally comes to him. Harry's eyes search the fleeing students for that familiar bushy haired brunette, "Granger."

"What about her?" The two keep walking as the tide of moving bodies dictate.

"If what those girls said is true, she's in a second floor bathroom with no idea there's a troll loose in the castle." Harry frowns and looks around the Entrance Hall towards the stairwell.

"Potter, what do you care? She's a Ravenclaw and more so, she's a mudblood." Blaise was two steps away before Harry grabs his arm to stop him from leaving.

"Okay, she's a Ravenclaw and yes, she is a muggle born but I _need _her." Harry frowns and takes a slow deep breath before plunging forward. He can see Blaise's eyes widen and his head beginning to shake in denial before he can even ask the question. Harry raises a hand to still him. "I need your help. In return..." Harry takes another deep breath, his mind tripping over what he can do, buy, sell, give, trade in order to seal Blaise's aide. "I'll buy you a new wardrobe."

Blaise's mouth snaps closed. He's mentioned to Harry a time or two that he would guide him in fashion sense, since Harry's idea of appropriate attire appears to be faded unsightly ragged muggle jeans three sizes too large and trainers that should have been burned ages ago. Now Harry is offering to buy _him _clothing? Blaise stares momentarily in contemplation, challenging him instead. "You can't afford it."

Harry scoffs. "Wizarding money is not an issue, Zabini. Now will you help me?"

A large calculating grin spreads across Blaise's face, "Swear it."

Raising his wand hand, Harry pauses for only a hair of a breath, "I swear it."

"Then let's go find your mudblood girlfriend." Blaise laughs at Harry's expense.

As luck would have it, the troll not only managed to gain entry into the castle, it also escaped the dungeons, avoided all students and faculty to enter the very bathroom that Hermione is presumably still sobbing in. Blaise shakes his head vehemently, "Granger is a goner, there is no way I'm going in there now."

Thinking fast, Harry blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "I'll let you pick out my wardrobe, too." Harry is desperate now and he knows there is no way he can face the troll alone. Its shoulders are slouched over and still it's as tall as the raised ceilings making it at least twelve feet tall. "You know I can't do this alone."

"Fine, fine. Let's go before I come to my senses." Blaise pushes the girl's bathroom door open and recoils at the stench of troll that wafts towards them. "Disgusting!"

Bracing himself Blaise pushes into the room hugging the back wall followed immediately by Harry, both young wizards are cautious with wands drawn. Harry whispers a bit hoarsely to Blaise, "I only know a few charms."

"Then it's a good thing that I'm here." Blaise whispers back, motioning for Harry to stay put as he moves to flank the enormous, oblivious troll.

For the first time and hopefully his last, Harry gets a good look at this troll, all twelve feet of the creature. Its smallish head is oddly out of proportion to the rest of its body, with large ears, a vacant yet determined look in its eyes, an elongated pear shaped body with long arms, stout legs and armed with a club the size of a tree trunk. The troll is busy swinging his large weapon of choice at the bathroom stalls causing the wood to crack and splinter.

The sound of the troll's actions fill the room, the stench of it fills their lungs and a muffled whimper from a far corner is drowned by it all. With each swing of the club, wooden debris flies and soon the troll is bashing the porcelain toilets. Much to the trolls surprise, water is quickly spreading across the tile floor and a pipe is laid bare to spout an awkward fountain.

Hermione is pressing her body in a far corner of the room wedged between the wall and a sink with her hands over her head, desperately trying not to scream or cry to catch the trolls attention. Her eyes are pressed shut, refusing to look upon her fate.

Blaise points to the troll and Harry nods absently, his mind is reeling through the few spells he knows, discarding the obvious and hoping one of the remaining will be of some use. Both boys stand with wands at the ready and with a nod of confidence, Blaise sends a hex aimed at the troll's torso. "_Stupefy_!"

Unfortunately, the troll's tolerance to magic is stronger than Blaise's spell. The spell bounces from the troll, crashes into the tile wall, leaving a scorched mark and catching the troll's ire. Hermione's head pops up at the change in sound and her elated gaze is fixated on the boys, filled with hope for a rescue.

With no real idea of what to do, Harry thrusts his wand forward, "_Aguamenti_."

Overzealous with his desire to do something useful the stream of water from Harry's wand plows into the troll causing it to teeter on its feet unsteadily. The troll roars in frustration, raising its club intent on smashing Harry, only to bring it down short. Water splashes at the impact and Harry stumbles backwards against the wall once again.

The troll is angered and roars at the ceiling, raising the club for another go. Scrambling from her hiding spot, Hermione grabs her wand and joins the fight. "Win_gardium Leviosa_!"

The troll swings with all its might and is stunned when it notes its hand is empty. Hermione has lifted its club out of its grasp, allowing it to float safely out of its reach above. The troll looks around for the club, determined to inflict pain. With a racing heart, Hermione glances at the two boys for some aid and once again Blaise hits it with a hex, "_Stupefy_!"

"That didn't exactly work last time." Harry calls out as once again the curse bounces off the troll.

"Giving it a bath didn't exactly do much either." Blaise retorts. "It still stinks!"

"Not helping!" Hermione's wavering voice pipes up, the tremor of fear catching the troll's attention.

The troll spins and roars at Hermione, baring its teeth in anger, confusion and frustration. Squeaking in surprise Hermione jumps, losing concentration, dropping the troll's club. The large trunk sized club falls with a sickening crack to the troll's skull knocking it to the floor. The crashing body splashes in the rising pool at their feet, soaking the students in a rush of water.

"Is it… is it dead?" Hermione whimpers in the sudden quiet wiping the dripping water from her face.

"We aren't that lucky," Blaise steps forward and points his wand at the troll's chest. "If we cast the hex together, the spell should be stronger. I don't want to chance the bloody thing waking up before we can get out of here."

Hermione, Harry and Blaise stand with their wands pointed at the unconscious troll. "One, two, thr-"

The bathroom door flies open as Professor McGonagall rushes in followed closely by Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape. "What is the meaning of this? Why aren't you in your Houses?"

Professor Snape steps forward leveling a look of annoyance at Blaise and Harry before checking on the troll. Blaise immediately stows his wand and stands straight, his face is instantly void of any thoughts or emotions. Harry tries to follow suit, stowing his wand, yet shooting a nervous glance at his Head of House belies any calm he tries to emulate.

Professor Quirrell whimpers with a hand to his chest staring at the comatose troll and leans against a far wall while Professor McGonagall continues to addresses the students. "Well? I expect answers. Why are you three here, you could have been killed!"

Hermione takes an unsteady step forward, stowing her wand as she moves. "That would be my fault, Professor. I've read about trolls and thought I could face it alone. If they hadn't come I'd surely be dead."

Professor Snape pulls his robes closed around him, crossing his arms while looking down his hooked nose at the three students. Blaise notices the moment of amusement that passes before Professor Snape's eyes as they flick towards Professor McGonagall. "Why am I not surprised at your actions, Miss Granger?" With a curl of his lip he continues, "It's surprising she isn't in Gryffindor."

With a huff at the slight to her House, Professor McGonagall straightens. "Five points from Ravenclaw. Whatever your motivation, Miss Granger, you endangered not only yourself but two other students."

"Five points each to Mr. Zabini and Mr. Potter for managing to overlook their House differences to save a fellow student. You three are lucky to be alive." Professor Snape's glare intensifies when it falls upon Harry, their eyes clashing as it does every encounter. "You two will escort Miss Granger safely to Ravenclaw tower before heading down to the dungeons. Evening feast is in the common rooms tonight."

"Yes, sir." Harry nods quickly and pulls Hermione to force her to leave the bathroom first.

They walk for a long while in silence, squelching shoes against stone is all you hear from the three. Blaise is lost in his thoughts wishing to be anywhere but here. Harry glances at Hermione weighing his next step in approaching her; he really wants her help, but doesn't know her well enough to simply broach the subject again. Hermione blushes lowering her eyes under Harry's intense gaze. Breaking Blaise and Harry from their thoughts, Hermione tries her hand at friendly conversation. "If you two hadn't shown up…" Shuddering Hermione lets the rest of the sentiment drop taking a new approach. "Not to sound ungrateful, but why did you come?"

"A couple of gossiping girls walked past our table. They mentioned where you were. When Quirrell came crying about the troll…" Harry shrugs a shoulder, "I couldn't just leave you there. I asked Zabini to come with me."

"Thank you, both of you." Blaise ignores her, Harry gives a friendly nod and they fall back into a silent stroll. They are quickly approaching Ravenclaw tower and Blaise slows his steps allowing Hermione and Harry to walk ahead of him. Hermione fidgets a moment and Blaise turns on his heel heading back to the stairs without a word.

"G'night, Granger." Harry gives Hermione a small grin and moves to follow Blaise.

"Um, Harry?" Hermione's voice is hesitant when she calls out to him.

"Hmm?" Harry turns back with a questioning gaze, a flicker of hope coils in his belly.

"If you still want help with Nicolas Flamel, I'll help you research." Harry smiles genuinely at Hermione and she continues, "I'll even help you with Professor Binns' lectures when you need it."

"Thanks! I'll take you up on that." Chuckling to himself in triumph, Harry gives a wave good-bye.

Blaise is impatiently waiting for Harry on the stairs. Whistling, Harry pats Blaise on the shoulder when he catches up. "You're awfully chipper. Did your girlfriend give you a kiss?"

Scoffing briefly, not allowing Blaise to dampen his mood, Harry smirks, "Better! I didn't have to bargain anything. She's offered to help me."

Blaise laughs, "Well, you aren't off the hook with me, Potter."

Harry's cheery disposition drops to a defeated groan. "Just kill me now and get it over with."


	6. Quidditch

**Quidditch**

The Great Hall is buzzing with excitement. Today is the first game of quidditch season and almost everyone has been talking about quidditch non-stop for a few weeks, starting right about the time practices started. Having limited knowledge of the game told by Ron during the train ride from London, Harry is quickly brought up to speed with the basic rules and concept of the game by Blaise and Jason. First game of the season is Slytherin vs Gryffindor. It's not surprising to anyone in Slytherin that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are showing Gryffindor pride.

With all the excitement around them, Harry almost forgot his appointment in the library with Hermione. Or rather he did forget and remembers as he comes face to face with Hermione at the Great Hall entrance and she reminds him. "G'morning, Granger."

"Morning, Harry." Hermione spares a shy smile at Blaise and Jason as they pass; Blaise smirks, Jason stares at her with curiosity.

"What's up?" Harry presses his hands in his front pockets to keep him grounded and not flying out the exit to the quidditch pitch with Blaise and Jason.

"Today being the first game, I figured you would forget." Hermione smiles and shakes her head teasingly. "It's okay if you want to skip the library today. We can meet tomorrow if you like."

Groaning Harry drops his head in shame. "I did forget. Blimey, Granger, I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

"You're a guy, Harry. Guys like sports. It's okay, really. Besides, I wouldn't mind seeing the game. I've never seen a quidditch game before. I've read loads but to actually see a game sounds fun." Hermione looks at the books in her grasp and hesitates.

Harry looks around them noticing the castle emptying in anticipation of the game and motions for her to walk with him. "Why don't we go to Ravenclaw tower, you can get rid of the books and we'll go to the pitch together. Besides, I wanted to ask if you'd had any luck finding anything about Nicolas Flamel."

"Nothing," Hermione sighs in frustration. "I've looked everywhere I can think of and still nothing."

"The weird thing is I feel as if I've seen the name before." Harry muses, rubbing the back of his neck lost in thought.

"I'd ask around, but then I'd have to explain why I'm looking for him." Hermione chances a glance at Harry, but he's staring at his shoes and misses the look while ignoring her comment.

Harry stops suddenly and pulls Hermione back around a corner. He presses his finger to his lips and she tilts her head showing her curiosity to this sudden change. Footsteps and voices are heard from the direction they were heading. Hermione presses her back to the wall clutching her books in front of her while Harry is peeking carefully around the corner. "How you watch all three heads at once is beyond me."

Their voices are approaching and Harry's eyes fill with sudden dread. Quickly he spins around towards Hermione and mumbles an apology in advance. He has positioned himself to visibly hide her from anyone passing down the hall by invading her personal space.

"Har-" Is all Hermione was able to squeak out before Harry's finger presses against her lips. Hermione's eyes widden as she hears someone approach.

Their faces are close together, Harry has his eyes closed tightly and is holding his breath waiting for the inevitable. "You two! Why are you still in the castle? You should be out at the quidditch pitch."

"Trust me." He whispers to her and she blinks up at him. Harry clears his throat and steps back from Hermione, "We were on our way to Ravenclaw tower so Miss Granger can put away her books." He turns to face his accuser with a calm assurance that he didn't feel in the slightest, "I intend to escort her to the pitch afterwards, sir."

Harry's heart is racing, pounding against his chest. Professor Snape was limping down the hall towards them, and after hearing him talk about the dog guarding the trapdoor with Mr. Filch, it makes some semblance of sense. "Miss Granger has been tutoring me in History of Magic." Harry fights to keep his face neutral as he's seen Blaise do every day.

Professor Snape's eyebrow rises so high it is lost in his hairline. "And you thought it prudent to thank her, Mr. Potter." It isn't a question necessarily but the look in Professor Snape's eyes is.

Mr. Filch sneers at them both. Harry ignores him keeping his gaze fixed on Professor Snape. Hermione shrinks against Harry's side, her books pressed to her chest like a shield. After a long, awkward silence, Professor Snape nods once. "Move quickly then, do not dawdle."

"Yes, sir!" Harry grabs Hermione's elbow and pulls her back away from the two sneering men.

Hermione doesn't speak, or rather she tries to, but Harry shakes his head. The two keep quiet until they reach Ravenclaw tower and finally Harry lets go of her elbow and sighs heavily in relief. "Sorry about that."

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione looks behind Harry at the direction they came and back to him.

He has that look in his eyes, the one that is clearly him deciding on how much of what to say. Harry nods, coming to a decision while pointing to the portrait behind her, "Go put your books away and we'll talk when you get back. You deserve some answers."

"Some?" Hermione huffs in response causing Harry to grin.

"I'll be waiting at the stairs for you." Harry walks away so Hermione can enter Ravenclaw tower and put away her books. Harry knows he has some explaining to do but isn't sure how much to divulge.

His fingers run across his chin and he smirks. What an awkward moment that had been. Hermione was rigid in surprise, not that Harry was about to kiss her, but perhaps that is what she thought he intended to do. It was what he wanted Professor Snape to believe they were doing.

Running fingers through his messy mop of black hair, Harry reflects on what he knows, what he's heard, what he's seen, what he believes to be fact and, more importantly, what to tell Hermione. "Start at the beginning."

Harry whips about in surprise and pauses. Where exactly is the beginning? "Too complicated, too convoluted; I'll start with a trip to Gringotts and work this out from there."

Harry and Hermione walk slowly down the stairs towards the Entrance Hall. He tells her about his trip to Gringotts with Hagrid, Hagrid removing a small package and the robbery later that same day. Hermione nods when he speaks about the robbery, having read about it in the _Daily Prophet_. Harry talks about his conversation with Hagrid and his slip of Nicolas Flamel's name.

"Ah, so whatever it was in the vault that someone was willing to break into Gringotts for has something to do with Nicolas Flamel." Hermione's voice is full of excitement and intrigue. "I've looked through more than half the library already. Even checking the Daily Profit every time hoping for a glimpse of his name and I've found nothing."

At the castle entrance Hermione stops and blushes. "That doesn't explain what happened with Professor Snape."

"Right…" Harry gives a shrug. "We would have been in trouble just being in the hallway when we should've been at the pitch. By appearing to kiss you I have saved you, for the time being, from detention with Professor Snape."

Hermione stares blankly at him, so he tries to explain. "We spend time together in the library. So, a lot of people in my house think you're my girlfriend." Her disgusted scoff makes him chuckle. "I'll try not to take that personally, besides, it's already benefiting you."

"That is the most egotistical-"

"Have you been picked on by any of the Slytherin lately?" Biting her lip she suddenly shakes her head and he continues. "Exactly, my house thinks we're dating and has stopped picking on you. Up until moments ago, Professor Snape had no idea we knew each other beyond the troll incident. Now he thinks you're my girlfriend, plus you are my tutor which, in his eyes, gives you a small amount of breathing room. Now do you understand?"

"Harry, I'm not your girlfriend." Hermione's eyes are wide, panicked, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"No, but they don't need to know that. It keeps you safe." His face turns very serious as a thought strikes him. "Unless you already have a boyfriend. That could be awkward."

"I don't have a boyfriend." Hermione blushes and looks away. Her eyes are troubled while piecing things together.

"Then there's no problem." Harry starts walking towards the pitch, the announcer's voice can be heard over the cheering as Gryffindor scores.

"But Harry!" Hermione rushes after him. "You're not my boyfriend!"

Harry shrugs, "Do you want a boyfriend? If there is someone else, you can break up with me." Harry hides his amusement with mock hurt.

"I can't break up if we aren't together. That makes no sense." Hermione is still trying to wrap her mind around everything.

"Granger," Harry puts his hand on her shoulder and she stops to look up at him. "Will it make you feel better if I promise not to kiss you?"

"What? No, it isn't that. It's just-"

"We're friends, Granger." Harry gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. "Come on we have a game to catch."

Hermione stares at him for a moment as he walks away yet again, and she literally shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Touching her cheeks as they warm with a blush, she sighs and walks a bit quicker to catch up to him.

They make their way up through the stands near the back to watch, cheer, and boo with the others. The score is relatively even with Gryffindor ahead by a goal when someone spots the snitch. Harry points up as both seekers suddenly dive, speeding towards the ground or the snitch which he hasn't spotted yet.

"Harry!" Hermione screams and pulls Harry off balance causing him to fall into her moments before a bludger crashes into the wooden bench he had been sitting on. The announcer is excitedly hollering about the magnificent catch by the Gryffindor seeker to win the game.

He had been so intent on spotting the snitch, Harry didn't see the bludger coming. "Thanks. I think I owe you one now."

"If you get off me, we're even." Hermione grunts and Harry laughs.

"Sorry, Granger." Harry scrambles up and helps Hermione to her feet only to hear someone yelling about an incoming bludger.

Harry looks around and spots the bludger coming his way only this time has the opportunity to move out of the way before it plows into the wooden benches again. "That was twice, can't be coincidence."

One of the Weasley twins flies over and yells out to Harry, "That wasn't me, Harry. I didn't even get to touch the bloody thing before it headed your way again."

"It's coming back!" Harry's waving him off as the bludger is on its way back for a third go at him. George, or it could be Fred, turns and flies out of the way moments before the bludger makes a third hole in the benches and that particular area of the stands clear out by screaming, panicked, frightened students. "Run, Hermione!"

"What about you?" Hermione's eyes scan the area, refusing to leave him unprotected. She has her wand at the ready not sure what to think or do.

"Potter!" Blaise is at the stairs calling for him. "It isn't safe, mate. C'mon!"

Harry pushes Hermione towards Blaise with the intent of following. The bludger has managed to turn for another go at Harry, this time coming from the underside of the bleachers blindsiding him and knocking him over the edge. Flailing his arms as he fall, he can see Hermione reaching over the edge towards him. Knowing its impossible, he still reaches for her only to have his hand grabbed by one of the twins fly by.

His body is jerked along, still descending but not at a free fall. "I got you!" Stunned Harry looks at the red head with a grateful smile. "Brace yourself."

The boys roll as best they can, the twin topples over his broom. Harry landing on his backside before skidding to a halt with a tumble or two. He felt his arm break on impact and howled, joined a moment later by the Weasley twin. Unfortunately for Harry the bludger comes for him again as he cradles his arm and scoots back as quickly as he can. Harry flinches, bracing himself for impact as the bludger pounds the ground near his left knee. Bringing his arm into him, Harry quickly rolls gritting his teeth against the pain.

Dizzy with pain, Harry's ears are ringing. He's aware of shouting but he's focused on the bludger and staying ahead of it. Somewhere there is a spell cast, Harry sees red light flashing followed by an odd pop of an explosion. Things are dimming quickly, Harry has a sudden urge to purge his breakfast. His shoulders are pinned, keeping him still, Harry trembles under the pressure. "Harry! Harry!"

Harry reaches a shaking hand out to the fuzzy someone kneeling over him before things go black.

When Harry wakes, he has no idea where he is. He doesn't want to move, it will hurt if he does, but he is curious as to the buzzing sound. Slowly his eyes open, the buzzing become words spoken softly between two voices and he reaches for his glasses, slipping them on. "How ya feeling, Harry?"

"Okay, I guess." Blinking to get his eyes to focus, Harry turns towards the voices and grins sleepily. Both Weasley twins are grinning at him, one lying on the hospital bed, the other sitting on the edge. "Brilliant save, by the way. Thanks."

"Fred, get Madam Pomfrey." George turns his attention back to Harry. "No worries, hell of a landing though. Don't think my broom survived. Fred saw you first, I just got to you faster. Figured we owe you for saving Ron's hide."

"They weren't supposed to tell anyone." Harry groans closing his eyes, "How many know about that?"

"Just me and Fred, don't worry. We'll never tell, who would believe it anyway?"George gives him the patented Weasley grin and Harry chuckles softly, grimacing when he tries to move.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey brings a cup of something that smells much like tea. "Your arm is mended, you'll be a bit sore but a nice rest will have you right as rain. This is camomile tea, it will help you relax. If you need something stronger, there is always a calming draught."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Harry is pleased to note his arm has healed and can handle holding a cup.

"Once you two are rested, I will release you back to your houses." Madam Pomfrey smiles kindly before heading back to her office.

Harry waits until the woman has left before leveling his gaze at the twins. "Okay, give. What happened out there?"

"Not sure," George starts.

"Someone tampered with the bludger." Fred continues.

"Got away from us a time or two," George adds.

"Fixated on getting after you," Fred interjects.

"And you weren't even playing." They say together.

Harry sips his tea and sighs heavily, "Makes no sense. What happened after we landed? I remember it slamming to the ground a few times."

George grins, "That girl of yours,"

"Girl? You mean Granger?" Harry interrupts.

"That's the one." Fred nods.

"Hexed the bludger," George chuckles.

"Blew the barmy thing to bits!" Fred laughs along.

Harry takes another sip of his tea. Well he sure didn't expect that. Hermione may be even more helpful than he imagined, perhaps it is time to tell the girl everything, seeing how he is beating his head against a brick wall. Setting the empty cup down, Harry closes his eyes, "Interesting."


	7. Christmas

**Xmas**

The Slytherin common room is crowded this afternoon with excited students chatting about plans for the holidays. Harry listens quietly, a small grin on his face and chuckles along when appropriate. The holiday break is coming and Harry gets to stay at Hogwarts per his request. A gift in itself to himself, one he intends to enjoy fully. No Dursleys, no chores, no staying in a locked room with no supper when Dudley doesn't get his way. Harry wants to postpone going back to that house as much as humanly possible.

"What are you so pleased about, Potter?" Draco's nasally voice reaches him and Harry sighs softly, his grin slips away quickly.

The trouble with Draco cornering him in the common room for these verbal assaults is that he must react or be viewed as weak. Weakness in a Slytherin is not acceptable and if you are deemed weak, others will quickly pounce as a predator does to its prey. Unfortunately for Harry, he is still learning this art of verbal banter but he just may surprise the boy. Harry leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. The look he achieves causes Draco's eyebrow to nudge higher, yet his features remain aloof. Now if only Harry could tame that racing heart of his, he'd be okay. Harry resists wiping the sweat from his palms. "I'm pleased to be surrounded by friends, Malfoy. A concept I'm sure you're familiar with. The difference between you and me stems from my friends choosing to hang out with me of their own free will."

Draco's eyes narrow at the hanging innuendo that he pays Goyle and Crabbe to pal around with him, leaving a bad taste in the boy's mouth as his lip curls into his customary sneer, "At least I get to go home for the Holidays, Potter. Unlike you, _I _have parents that love me."

"Really pathetic, Malfoy. You couldn't come back with something stronger than my parents?" Harry hides the hurt, burying it behind a mask of indifference. Tsking, Harry stands and starts to walk towards the common room door, stopping shoulder to shoulder with Draco first. "I expected so much more from you."

Blaise smirks at Draco, "Library again, Potter?"

Harry pauses at the exit, "Naturally. Granger is expecting me. I'll see you at dinner."

Making it out the door this time, Harry doesn't stop until he's around the corner and a fair distance from the Slytherin common room before he allows his breath out. Harry leans against the wall, eyes closed and breathing slowly to calm his heart. That quip about his parents hurt but he could never let Draco know that. "Trouble, Mr. Potter?"

Harry jumps in surprise, pushing away from the wall. "Sorry, Professor. I didn't see you coming."

Folding his arms across his chest, an odd glint flashes in Professor Snape's eyes before narrowing. His eyebrow rises while he waits for Harry to continue. Harry appears to smooth his robes, only he's drying his palms and takes a steadying breath. "Sir, there is no trouble. I'm on my way to the library."

"To see your 'girlfriend', I suppose." The unyielding look from Professor Snape has Harry's stomach squirming and he swallows hard.

"I will be meeting Miss Granger there." Harry frowns for a moment, "Is that a problem, sir?"

"There are times I swear you are your father's child and then…" Professor Snape shakes his head as if clearing a thought. "Move along, Mr. Potter."

Professor Snape walks away, his robe billowing in his wake and Harry watches it in fascination, unsure of what to make of that encounter. Professor Snape was almost… civil. Scratching his head, Harry continues on to the library where Hermione is surrounded by a table of books.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione drops her shoulders in slumped defeat as Harry slides into a chair across from her. "I've looked at every book in here with the exception of the ones in the Restricted Section."

"How do we get to those books?" Harry glances towards the back of the library, missing the look of disbelief from Hermione.

"I don't know, Harry." Their eyes meet and her resolve is strengthened. "We'll figure out something."

"Care to go for a walk?" Realizing there isn't much more they can do at the library, Harry pushes his chair back stepping away from the desk waiting for a response.

"Where to?" Hermione pushes her chair back as well to follow along with her arms folded across her middle.

Harry guides her through the castle towards the Entrance Hall, "Have you met Hagrid?"

"Other than seeing him on the grounds after our first night, no. Is he a friend of yours?" Hermione's eyes widen in surprise.

"Yes, Hagrid is a friend of mine." Harry chuckles. "I do have friends other than you, Jason and Blaise, Granger."

"Well I figured, but Hagrid? That…" Hermione shakes her head, "I guess nothing you say should surprise me."

Harry laughs and nudges her playfully with his arm. "Hagrid is the one who introduced me to Diagon Alley. Took me to Gringotts, I told you that story."

"Oh… right." Hermione blushes and looks down to hide her embarrassment.

"Hagrid bought Hedwig that day, gave her to me for my birthday." Harry continues as they stroll the grounds on their way to Hagrid's hut. "He's the one who mentioned Flamel and I have a feeling he knows about that hound."

"The three headed, slobbering menace guarding the trapdoor?" Hermione sounds almost in awe of the beast. She hasn't met the monster so her curiosity is peaked.

Harry nods, "The same."

Hermione worries her bottom lip in concentration before shaking her head not seeing the connection that is obvious to Harry. "Why do you think Hagrid will know about it?"

"Hagrid is the most logical choice, he has a thing for large creatures. Wait until you meet Fang." Harry grins when she shudders. "Fang is a big coward; he's large and slobbery but only one head."

The two stand before Hagrid's hut waiting for him to answer. "Hagrid, I hear you in there." Hermione fidgets, stuffing her hands in her pockets trying to keep warm in the brisk December air. Harry knocks again, "C'mon, Hagrid, it's freezing out here."

After another long moment, Hagrid opens the door but doesn't step back to allow them entry. "Listen, 'arry. I canna-"

"I know about the three headed dog." Harry interrupts, gaining both Hermione and Hagrid's attention.

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows furrow forming one large furry brown line across his forehead. "Fluffy? 'ow d' ya know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" Hermione stares at Hagrid with wide eyes of surprise. "What kind of person names a three headed dog, Fluffy?"

"I do, o' course, 'e is mine after all." Hagrid's frown deepens, "And 'ow do you know about Fluffy?"

"Lucky, I guess." Harry weighs his words, "Hagrid, what is Fluffy guarding?"

Hagrid's back goes stiff, eyes widening as if remembering something important. "Sorry, 'arry. Hogwarts business, as I toldja, I canna-"

"Talk about it. Right, I remember. Hagrid, Professor Snape tried to get past Fluffy to get at whatever it is he's guarding." Harry decided to show a bit more of his hand. He might as well, being coy is still new to him and he wants answers.

"Wha?" Hagrid bristles, "Tha's crazy talk, 'arry. Professor Snape is one of th' staff tha' is guarding th'-"

"Yes?" Harry prompts. "What are they guarding, Hagrid?"

Hagrid shakes his head, backing into his hut, "Nothin', I didna say nothin'!"

With the door firmly closed in their faces, the two make their way back towards the castle. Harry shoves his hands into his pants pockets, looking up at the clock tower as they stroll towards the entrance. "The more we learn, the more questions I have."

Hermione rubs her arms absently, biting her lip and glances towards Harry. "If we find the connection between Nicolas Flamel and Hogwarts, we'll have a better idea what was in that vault, why Fluffy is guarding it and maybe figure out why Professor Snape wants it so desperately that he's willing to take on a three headed beast."

Unfortunately, when the holiday break rolls around, they have learned nothing new. Before Hermione left for London Harry promised to continue the research which he has yet to do. Harry relaxes in the nearly empty Great Hall with Ron instead of stepping foot in the library. "Why do you suppose the lighting in your common room is so green?"

Harry moves his queen's rook to capture Ron's pawn nodding towards a far window, "Overheard someone mentioning the window being enchanted. Also heard it's because we're in a dungeon below water level and the creatures in the lake give off that glow. Honestly, I don't know and not sure I really care."

"Well it's creepy," Ron shivers, making his move and Harry smirks at him.

"I guess it can be at first, but you get used to it." Ron scoffs, unconvinced. The two are playing a rousing game of Wizard's chess. For the first time since learning to play, Harry is holding his own and not losing miserably. "You're just sore because I'm finally getting the hang of this game."

Ron snorts and makes his last move, "Checkmate."

"Bloody hell." Harry laughs. "Or maybe not."

Clearing the pieces, the board is reset and Harry pauses to think out his first move. Ron sits back, scratching his belly with a bemused grin. "I'm glad Mum and Dad went to Romania this year. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, it's just rather nice to do what I want instead of chores for two weeks."

Harry simply nods, keeping any comment or retort that springs to mind to himself. Harry hasn't talked about his homelife with Blaise, who is his best friend; he's not about to say something to Ron. "No chores sound good to me, too."

* * *

A few days of sleeping in, losing games of Wizard's chess against the Weasleys, lazy leisure walks, and yes a brief visit to the library, or at least to the library door to peer inside so he won't have to lie to Hermione, and Harry is happier than he's ever been. He fumbles groggily for his glasses before Harry can coax his eyes to open.

For long, quiet minutes Harry simply stares happily at the ceiling. He probably would have laid like that for hours if his stomach hadn't decided that it would very much like food in the near future. Harry sits up, flinging his blankets off of him and grunts as his feet hit the cold stone floor. Girding up his strength to continue on with his morning, Harry notes Jason's empty bed with a brief curiosity as to where he is off to so early this morning.

With a small shiver that creeps up his spine, Harry takes a few ginger steps across the floor towards the door with the intent of heading towards the loo when he spots something odd that stops him in his tracks. With his head tilted to the side, Harry stares in surprise at the small pile of gifts at the foot of his bed. "I have presents?"

He's never gotten presents before. Harry wonders if they are truly meant for him. Ron is the only one he told his little secret to in a moment of weakness. He still isn't sure why he said it but it was out before he could stop it. 'I won't be getting any presents. The Dursleys aren't big on gifts.' For Harry anyhow, Dudley would have a mountain of gifts that he would count and heaven forbid they are short a gift.

Running fingers through his hair, Harry's eyes skim the parcels and decides to start with the one on top. Plucking the package, he reads the plain brown wrapping with Hagrid's messy writing. The gifts really are for him! A grin splits his face when he gets the package unwrapped to reveal the small wooden flute. Turning it over in his hands, his heart warms by the thoughtful gift. Hagrid must have made it for him. Blowing it softly Harry isn't entirely surprised that it sounds like an owl.

Folding the paper and setting it aside with the flute, he finds another small gift, this time with a note. Harry stares blankly at it for a moment, more shocked than upset and reads the note again and again turning it over as if he's confused, which he is. The note is from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia with a fifty-pence piece taped to it. "Hmmm…"

Harry takes a slow deep breath and runs his fingers through his mop of hair again. Staring at the fifty-pence in his hand, Harry simply doesn't know what to think of it or why they felt the need to send him something. They've never gone out of their way to do a thoughtful thing for him before. Why now? What changed? Harry's hand closes around the coin and he sighs. Appearances. The Dursleys sent him this in order to look as if they cared, appearances are everything to them. How very Slytherin of them. Tossing the Dursley gift aside, Harry refuses to allow their gift to bring down his spirits.

Looking at the lumpy package next he pulls it closer and sets it on his lap. Turning over the package with care, Harry notices there is no note nor writing on the paper. Tearing the paper back carefully, Harry finds a hand knit sweater and a large box of homemade fudge. He holds the sweater to him and marvels that someone would think this much of him to take the time to make such a wonderful gift. Harry runs his hand along the thick emerald green sweater, enjoying how soft it is and rubs the sleeve along his cheek, not bothering to hide the shimmering tears threatening to fall.

Opening the large box of homemade fudge, Harry carefully takes a small piece and takes a bite. His heart leaps at the rush of flavor and his grin is back, broader than before. Harry has to make himself stop eating the fudge after his third piece, reminding himself that he has two more packages waiting for his attention.

One package is more chocolate - a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione - and the last is another mystery more compelling than the homemade goodness.

"What…" Harry gasps and catches the card as it slips out of the glistening fabric of the cloak. Setting the card on the bed, Harry tentatively runs his fingers over the cloth. Harry hops up and allows the cloak to slide to the floor. The material of the cloak is shimmering in the dim light of his dorm room and soft as rain. He slips it over his shoulders and lets out a croak of surprise.

Practically stumbling to the mirror, Harry stares in disbelief at his reflection. Harry's body, from the shoulders down, is gone, only his head is floating in the mirror. His grin widens. Harry lifts it over his head and notes that his image vanishes completely from the mirror. "Wicked."

The dorm room opens, causing Harry to jump in surprise. With his heart hammering in his chest, he watches Jason cross the room and stop to stare at Harry's bed. With damp hair, a towel over a shoulder and only a pair of boxers on its obvious where Jason has been. Jason walks to Harry's bed to run a hand over the hand knit sweater before turning back to his own area to dress. "Vaisey."

Jason lets out a croak of surprise, spinning on the spot. "P-Potter?" With a hand to his chest, eyes wide he looks around questioningly. "What the-"

Harry drops his cloak around his shoulders and grins mischievously. "Merry Christmas!"

"Bloody hell!" Jason stares wide eyed, reaching out to where Harry is standing and grabs hold of what should be air, only to be touching Harry's shoulder. "How…"

Harry opens his cloak to show his pajama clad body before closing it again becoming once more a floating head. "It's a cloak. Fabulous magic."

Jason grins. "An invisibility cloak. These cloaks are rare and wickedly expensive. I've only heard of them, this is the first time I've ever seen one."

Harry lifts the cloak over his head and his image vanishes completely. "Best gift ever."

"Who sent this to you?" Jason reaches out before him, swinging his hand back and forth, seemingly talking to the empty room.

Turning back to his bed, Harry grabs the card and reads the loopy elegant script.

**_Your father left this in my possession before he died. _**  
**_It is time it was returned to you. _**  
**_Use it well._**

**_A Very Merry Christmas to you._**

Without realizing it, Harry has allowed the cloak to slip from his shoulders and it is currently pooled around his feet on the floor. He sits on his bed, staring blankly at the far wall.

"What's wrong?" Jason takes a seat on Harry's bed beside him, taking the card from the other boy's fingers before it can fall unnoticed from his grip. Jason reads the note and quirks an eyebrow.

Harry stands, carefully folds the cloak and places it back in the box, setting it aside as if he's afraid to touch it. "Was it really my father's and if so who did he give that to and why now? Why wait until now to give it to me?"

"Hide it, Harry. Don't let anyone know you have it. If Flint, Pucey or Malfoy find out about it…" Jason shudders and shakes his head.

"Crabbe and Goyle, too." Harry sits beside Jason and gently touches the cloak. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Jason turns and faces Harry waiting for him to ask his question.

"What do you think of Nott?" Harry avoids looking at Jason when he asks, simply stroking the soft shimmering material of the invisibility cloak.

"He's okay. Quiet, keeps to himself mostly." Jason grabs Harry's box of homemade fudge and takes a piece before continuing. "How much do you know about your scar and how you got it?"

Harry turns to face Jason suddenly feeling anxious and excited to hear what the boy has to say. "Hagrid told me that Vol-"

"Whoa. You mean You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but that's kinda long." Jason finishes the piece of fudge and stares at Harry's scar. "You-Know-Who came to kill you and your parents, only you didn't die. It's how you ended up with that scar and the nickname-"

"The Boy-Who-Lived," Harry interrupts and rubs his scar, deep in thought. "Hagrid says no one knows why Vol-" Jason flinched and Harry stops himself. "Sorry, You-Know-Who came to our house. Nothing explains why it happened. I still don't get why he wanted to kill me and my parents."

"No one knows, and if they do, no one is talking." Jason pauses for a moment and continues. "So you were asking about Nott. Have you ever heard of Death-Eaters?"

Harry sits up and leans closer, his palms instantly sweating and his heart races all because Jason's voice dipped to almost a whisper of fear when he said 'Death-Eaters'. "No, what is that?"

Jason closes his eyes and takes a calming breath before continuing. "They worked for You-Know-Who. Dark wizards each one of them and some of their children are in this very House."

He thought his heart would stop, Harry trembles at the reality and suddenly he is very weary of everyone in Slytherin house. "That's why so many hate me."

"And why so many of the other Houses _like _you." Jason nods. "Look, Potter, it isn't my place to tell you what to do, but if you're not sure about someone, like Nott, just be careful."

"What about you and Zabini?" Harry is almost afraid to hear Jason's response.

"Zabini's a purist, but not one of You-Know-Who's followers as far as I can tell. Me? I don't care about blood status. I'm a half-blood." Jason shrugs and pushes away from Harry's bed. "I'm starving. Let's go get some breakfast."


	8. Mirror of Erised

**Mirror of Erised**

Harry is wearing his new emerald green, hand knit sweater to breakfast this fabulous Christmas morning. As he sits at a table with Jason, the Weasley brothers enter, each sporting their very own, uniquely colored, yet matching, sweaters. Ron gives Harry a lopsided, embarrassed grin of apology. "Sorry, Harry. I told Mum you didn't think you'd get any gifts. I guess she wanted to make sure you weren't left out."

"Thanks, Weasley." Harry gives him a genuine smile and the group settles in for a splendid meal. Harry is quiet, eating slowly, his mind rambling around making a list of folks in Slytherin and who may or may not be related to a Death-Eater. Jason is the only one to notice Harry's withdrawal from the conversation and nudges him under the table.

Their day is spent having snowball fights, laughing and playing games of all sorts. Houses didn't matter, fun is on the agenda for the day. Even the staff that stayed behind are in good spirits, sporting silly hats, drinking and carrying on in playful banter. Christmas has been a lot of fun, and Harry is disappointed to see it come to an end.

Lying in his bed, Harry stares at the ceiling as each soft flicker of the candle beside him casts dancing shadows within the dorm room. Blowing out the candle, the room falls into darkness and the only sound Harry notices is the soft snores coming from Jason's bed. Harry punches his pillow restlessly and tries to quiet his thoughts. Just as he is about to drift off, Harry's eyes spring open. The cloak.

Harry opens the box, pulling the cloak out and draping it over his shoulders. He looks across the room towards Jason and opts not to wake the boy. Use it wisely. Harry can't wait to use it, wisely or otherwise, but opts to try at least to be smart with his actions.

With no clear idea where he'll go, what he'll do, Harry leaves the room and heads towards the exit through the common room and out into the castle. The odd shadows play along the walls, dancing flames of the few lit torches are the only lights and Harry pulls the cloak closer around him.

About the time Harry reaches the Entrance Hall and the stairs, the idea comes to him. Harry can go to the library. He can finally enter the Restricted Section and do the research Hermione asked him to do. With a clear objective, Harry feels a bit more confident and makes his way to the fourth floor without incident.

Entering the library, Harry pauses before easing through the aisles of books, glancing around him, suddenly anxious and paranoid. Pressing his back to a bookshelf, Harry closes his eyes,trying to calm his racing heart. With a silent mantra of 'I can do this, I can do this' repeating in his mind, Harry lights a nearby lantern and heads with more confidence than he feels to the Restricted Section.

Stepping lightly and carefully over the low hung rope, Harry sets the lantern on the floor. He leans closer to the books in order to read titles, but it doesn't do Harry much good. The titles are obscure, or faded, and his trembling hands aren't much help to keep him calm. Closing his hand around a volume, Harry takes a calming breath before extracting it from the shelf. The binding is an odd black and silver, the book is large and heavy, the title is faded and he stumbles half a step under the weight of the tome.

With an almost muted 'oof' Harry tries to balance the tome on his knee while opening the cover. The book screams. The sound pierces the silence around him, causing his heart to leap to this throat. Harry fumbles with the book, slamming it closed, but the damage is done and the sound lingers. In a fit of panic, Harry shoves the book back into its spot, loses his footing and drops to his knee with a groan. His voice is low and shaking, "oh please, oh please, oh please!"

"Who's there?" Mr. Filch's voice reaches Harry and he turns abruptly, knocking over the lantern with a shattering crash.

Harry winces and scrambles back against the wall. He presses his hands over his mouth to stifle the groan begging to escape him as Mr. Filch steps closer, his own lantern held high. Mr. Filch looks around noting the book half in its place, almost teetering, almost begging to be pulled and viewed once again. Mr. Filch's eyes keenly lowers to the floor as he kneels beside the shattered lantern. With a gnarled hand, Mr. Filch carefully touches it and grumbles under his breath.

Whipping around and heading out the door, Mr. Filch calls for Mrs. Norris. Only, Mrs. Norris hasn't moved. Perched on a nearby table, she hisses at a far wall draped in shadow. Staring intently, the cat is perfectly still; not even her tail dares flicker.

Harry eases from the wall, his eyes staring at Mrs. Norris as she watches his progress. Making it out of the library, Harry is forced to side step and flatten his body against the wall as much as possible when Mr. Filch makes a reappearance with Professor Snape. "Ya told me ta let you know if any students were out an' about. Someone has been in the library, in the Restricted Section."

The two men stop near Harry and he once again has to stifle a groan. "Restricted Section? They can't have gotten far." Professor Snape's clipped tones drip with anger, causing Harry to shudder.

A sudden mewling from Mrs. Norris lights a fire in Harry. He slips as quietly as possible towards the only open doorway near him. Just as Professor Snape turns to look in the direction Mrs. Norris was looking, Harry slips soundlessly into the room.

Shaking from head to toe, Harry leans against the wall. His heart is pounding louder than his breathing and he looks around wondering where it is he has gotten himself to this time. That is when he sees the only piece of furniture not covered and pressed to the sides of the room. Slowly Harry approaches the standing mirror and isn't surprised when he sees nothing but the reflection of the room staring back at him.

The mirror is tall, simple - yet elegant - and it has an inscription that means nothing to Harry. He peers at the script engraved across the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

Harry tilts his head trying to work out what it could possibly mean, but isn't unfamiliar with the language. Slowly he removes his cloak and gasps in horror at the sight before him. Whipping about he stares wide eyed at the empty room.

Gripping his chest Harry tries to will his heart rate to slow, his breathing to calm and his hands to stop trembling but to no avail. After a few long moments, Harry looks again at the mirror and once again his eyes widen in fear. Harry looks over his right shoulder where he should be standing, only Harry is still alone. With a confused look, Harry steps closer to the mirror and the image swirls and more people fill the emptiness.

"What?" Harry jumps at the sound of his own voice not realizing he had spoken out loud. Professor Snape smirks openly at him, sets his hand on Harry's right shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze that Harry can see in the reflection, but not feel. The man standing directly behind him looks incredibly like him, same type of glasses, same mop of black hair only with blue eyes and to his left is a woman with long dark red hair with...

"Eyes like mine." This time, when Harry spoke, it didn't frighten him, it enlightens him. He knows who they are. He's been told a dozen times since entering the wizard world that he has his mother's eyes.

There are others in the mirror as well, various ages, various sizes, some he knows like Jason, Hermione, Blaise, Ron, Draco, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley; others he has never met but they look oddly like him. Family. He lets out a puff of air; a breath of relief, of understanding and pain. Family, friends, acceptance. It's what he's always wanted. No longer does he have to hide his scar, his magic, his insecurities, his personal secrets and fears.

Harry wants to touch the mirror but he is afraid to. Deep down somewhere, he knows it isn't real, but really he doesn't care to know the truth, he wants it so desperately to _be_ the truth.

While the images change occasionally, the acceptance is always there. A comforting hug, a pat on the shoulder, a soft kiss from his mom. He doesn't know how long he has been watching the mirror, but his eyes are growing blurry from staring and sleep deprivation.

"I'll come back when I can." Harry slips his cloak over his shoulders and stares longingly at his parents again.

When he ducks out of the room to make his way back to his room, Harry suddenly feels a bit silly for having talked to the mirror as if it were a living being. Still, talking to the images made him feel better, silly or not.

* * *

Jason listens intently to the description of the mirror, shaking his head in absolute wonder. "Never heard of it before. When are you going back? You _are_ going back aren't you?"

Harry grins and nods enthusiastically, "Tonight if you're up to it."

"So what will I see? My family? I have a few cousins I've never met. Muggles don't mix well with the wizarding world after all." Jason moves his King's bishop. "Checkmate. You're getting better. I think having your own set helps."

"I think it does, that, and Percy isn't trying to coach me." Harry smirks and resets the pieces. "Watching you and Ron play last night was intense. You're both excellent players."

Chuckling, Jason motions for Harry to go first. "Ron's clever but he lets his brothers rile him too easily. It makes it easier to beat him."

The morning continues to afternoon and Harry almost wins a game. Almost. Well, not really, but Harry thought he might win just the one game. "One of these days, I will win."

"You've won before." Jason smirks. "Checkmate."  
Groaning Harry drops his head in his hands. "Winning against Percy and George is not the same as beating you or Ron."

"You'll just have to do better, mate." Jason stands and stretches. "Speaking of the Weasleys, we haven't seen them today."

"Huh, I hadn't realized. I wonder where they've gone off to today." Harry packs his chess pieces and the board while Jason takes care of his own.

"Let's just head to the common room and get rid of these things before lunch. Perhaps we'll run into them this afternoon." Jason tucks the board and his box of pieces under his arm and looks at Harry expectantly. "You okay, Potter?"

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry suddenly blushes. "Sorry, just thinking." The two make their way towards the dungeons before Harry speaks again. His voice is hushed and filled with urgency. "What if they found the mirror?"

Jason gives a small shrug. "Would it matter if they have? It will still be there, yeah?" Harry frowns and grumbles under his breath causing Jason concern. "Hey." Jason grips his shoulder bringing Harry to a stop in the middle of their common room. "We'll find it tonight and everything will be fine."

"Will it?" Harry is trembling and Jason gives his shoulder a squeeze. Taking a cleansing breath, Harry nods as if to confirm and ease Jason's concerns as well as his own.

"Here, I'll take care of these." Jason takes Harry's box of chess pieces and heads towards their dorm room.

Harry paces mumbling his thanks. Combing his fingers through his mop of black hair, Harry can barely contain his anxiety. He hadn't eaten much at breakfast and the thought of food now did nothing for him. All of his thoughts are centered on the mirror. Still, if he can get through lunch it brings them closer to dinner, and that just brings them closer to the nighttime and their chance of finding the mirror and-

"Hey, Harry!" Jason calls out again. "Are you coming?"

His head snaps up and his eyes are wild, but Harry nods on cue, leading Jason out of the door. "Right, lunch first…"

* * *

That evening after curfew, Harry and Jason walk slowly around the fourth floor hallways searching for the room with the mirror. Harry would have liked to move quicker but they have to stay close in order to keep them both covered by his cloak. It is surprisingly painful for Harry, the anticipation of seeing his parents, his family is gnawing at him.

"Harry." Harry doesn't hear him as Jason whispers in his ear, so Jason tries again. This time Harry has to hear Jason because he grabs his elbow to stop him from moving on. "Harry."

"_What_?" Harry snaps at Jason and he sighs when he feels his friend stiffen beside him. "Sorry, we should have found it already. It should be right… there!"

Grabbing Jason's arm, Harry urges him forward and they finally reach the small room near the suit of armor. Jason practically stumbles into the room behind Harry. Harry has thrown off the cloak, leaving Jason by the door to pick up the cloak. Slowly draping the cloak over his arm, Jason sets it down on one of the desks, the whole time he watches Harry stand transfixed before the mirror.

Harry beams at Jason and waves him over, "Come here, look, see?" Harry is watching the mirror again. His face is filled with happiness, warmth and hope.

"That must be some mirror." Jason glances nervously at the mirror but doesn't see whatever it is Harry is seeing. "I only see you, Harry."

Crestfallen, Harry looks at the mirror and back to Jason. "Well…" Harry steps back and points to where he was standing, "Try here."

Jason nods slowly and steps to where Harry had been and he peers thoughtfully at the mirror. "Huh…"

"What? Do you see your family and friends?" Harry peers over Jason's shoulder only seeing the two of them.

"No, it's me. Only older. I look pretty good." Jason chuckles as Harry rolls his eyes. "Not as short anyway. Oh, wow, Harry I'm a chaser and quidditch captain and we've won the cup!"

Jason's face is pale and he's trembling. His hand grips Harry's arm pulling him in front of him while Jason backs away quickly. "Bloody hell, Potter, what do you see?"

"I told you, Vaisey. I see my family and friends." Harry watches Jason with curiosity. "Are you okay?"

A loud mewl is heard in response to Harry's question. Jason's voice is a strangled whisper. "Mrs. Norris."

"We gotta get out of here!" Harry pulls the cloak over the pair and they tumble from the room before the cat can return with Mr. Filch.

The boys are back in the dorm before they can catch their breath and speak without fear. Jason was sitting on his bed, staring at his shoes as if they had the answers. "I don't know what to think about your mirror."

His mirror, Harry likes the sound of that. Folding his cloak he grins at Jason, but the boy is still pale. "What did you see?"

Jason's haunted gaze stares at Harry for a few moments, his eyes get a far off look in them for a moment before he shakes his head. "Some things are better left unsaid, Potter."

"Jason," Harry moves closer to him and Jason shakes his head, wincing.

"No, you're my best friend. Please," Jason closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. "Harry, just let it go."

"Alright." He watches Jason lay fully clothed on his bed and curl into a ball, his back to Harry. Harry strips out of his clothes and dresses in his pajamas before crawling into bed. With a renewed determination, Harry decides he must see the mirror again. He has to figure out what has Jason so shaken and frightened, no matter the cost and while he's there, Harry can visit with his family again.

* * *

Jason didn't want to join him again. After the second night of asking and being turned down, Harry didn't bother asking on the third and slipped away into the dark halls. Harry knows the way and is in the room quickly, shutting the door behind him. He slips out from under the cloak and takes a seat before the mirror.

The image always starts the same, Harry's parents happy to see him, Professor Snape beaming at him proudly and then things change, the people drift in and out. The Dursleys, the Potters, friends come and go and in the end, it is back to just Harry and his parents. Tonight is a bit different, this time Jason is sitting beside him giving him a playful nudge and a knowing smirk.

"Ah, back again, Harry?" The voice breaks through the illusion.

Blinking in surprise Harry stares wide eyed at Professor Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster with his twinkling blue eyes, long white beard and equally long white hair. "I-I…" Harry swallows past the lump in his throat, his mind races wondering when exactly did Professor Dumbledore come in, or was he here the whole time, or… "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't see you there."

Honesty is best when dealing with panic. No chance of tripping over lies. "Somehow I'm not surprised." Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement as he crossed the room to take a seat beside Harry. "You aren't the first to be enchanted by the Mirror of Erised. The lure of its views are most delightful."

"The Mirror of Erised?" Harry stares up at the inscription, "I didn't realize it had a name."

"Name and a history," Professor Dumbledore nods sagely and looks at the mirror as a true work of art. "You do realize what it does, don't you?"

"Does, sir?" Harry feels silly repeating everything Professor Dumbledore says but really he has no idea where the man is going with this line of questioning. "It showed me my family and friends and…"

"It showed your friend, Jason, as the quidditch captain and the esteemed chaser." Professor Dumbledore nods along a small grin when Harry's eyes widen.

"How did you…" Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to ask first. How did he know about him being here with Jason, how did he know what they saw, how did he know Harry would be back?

"One does not need a cloak to be invisible." Sage words from Professor Dumbledore is lost on Harry. "Do you know what the mirror shows us?"

Silently Harry shakes his head and Professor Dumbledore continues. "Let us just say, the happiest man on Earth would simply see his own reflection as a normal mirror would reflect."

Harry simply blinks a time or two before trying to wrap his mind around what he just heard. "So what we see is what would make us happy?"

"It shows what you most deeply desire. You see friends, family and, dare I say even your Head of House, welcoming and accepting you as you are without preconceptions of what they think you should be." Professor Dumbledore chuckles softly at the surprise on Harry's face. "As for your friend Jason, his desires are more basic. He has friends, family, but what he desires is similar to yours. To be accepted yet as a leader, for someone to see in him the qualities he sees in others."

"Something scared him, sir." Harry frowns and stares at the mirror again. "I can't get it to show me what scared Jason."

"I have to ask you not to come again, Harry. This mirror shows neither insight or knowledge. It can enchant with the lure of what some perceive to be the truth, but it only gives what you think you want." Professor Dumbledore stands, "Plus I will be moving it to a new home tomorrow."

Professor Dumbledore urges Harry to stand and they take a step away from the mirror. "If you see it again, you will be prepared. Only I don't want you looking for it."

Harry quietly nodded still wrapping his head around it all and grabbed his cloak. "Sir, may I ask you what you see?"

Smirking Professor Dumbledore says two words that even after Harry crawls into bed later that night sounds so odd to be coming from such an esteemed man. "Woolen socks."


	9. Nicolas Flamel

**Nicolas Flamel**

The holiday break is coming to an end and Harry is oblivious to his surroundings. The fire dances in the common room fireplace, capturing his attention. Harry is sitting on the rug covered stone floor mesmerized. Jason sits down on the sofa resting his forearms on his thighs casting a concerned look at his friend. "You need to snap out of this, Potter. Classes start on Monday, everyone is coming back and I miss my friend."

Harry is quiet for a long time as if he didn't hear Jason talking to him. Suddenly words are spoken, Harry's thoughts are whispered to the fire, to himself, to Jason, to anyone who cares to listen. "I miss the mirror. I miss seeing them. I never knew what they looked like and now I can't get them out of my mind." Harry closes his eyes slowly and lowers his head, his chin touching his chest. The pain, anguish and loneliness tortures his soul. Harry's voice is so low, Jason struggles to hear him over the crackling fire. "They haunt me, even when I sleep."

Jason slides from the couch to sit beside Harry. "Harry, what did you see?"

Glancing at Jason, Harry asks, "In the mirror?" To which Jason simply nods. Staring back at the fire for a moment, Harry wraps his mind around his response. "I saw people I know, people I'm related to, some I never knew."

Harry runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts his glasses in a nervous delay tactic. "They got along with me, with each other. Yet it was mostly the overwhelming feeling of acceptance."

"Acceptance of what?" Jason watches Harry closely, noting how Harry pulls his legs closer to wrap his arms around them. Harry is lost in the flames again. Jason tries once more to pull Harry from his mind and talk to him. "Talk to me. What were they accepting?"

"Me." Harry shakes his head and shrugs a shoulder as if it doesn't matter, but it does and Jason can tell. "Let's go eat lunch. You must be starving."

Jason smirks, nudging Harry with his elbow before standing up. He holds his hand out for Harry to take. Harry looks at Jason's hand, a small grin tugs at him and he accepts the help up off the floor. "For the record, I accept you for you."

* * *

Hermione came back a day early and joins Harry, Jason and the Weasley boys for lunch. Jason gives her a lopsided, shy grin and she returns it just as awkwardly. Harry breaks into Hermione's thoughts, "Thanks for the chocolate frogs."

"You're welcome, Harry." Hermione worries her bottom lip, "Are you okay?"

Harry gives her his own lopsided grin and a single shoulder shrug, "Ya, I'm okay."

Looking from Harry to Jason, the doubt is obvious in her eyes. Hermione drops her gaze and drops the question, noting the warning look in Jason's eyes. From that moment forward, conversation remains light, vague and filled with fun stories during lunch.

Once they have their fill, Hermione, Harry and Jason make their way towards the library. It is during their leisurely stroll that Harry tells Hermione about his venture into the Restricted Section and with the mirror. "Wait, you went out three nights in a row?"

Harry gives a noncommittal shrug, "Five actually."

Eyes widening in shock and fear, Hermione is practically speechless. "Harry!" She spins on Jason and jabs a finger at his chest. "And you! You _let _him?"

"I…" Jason sighs and doesn't argue with her. "I'm sorry. It was important to him."

"Well, it doesn't matter now. It's gone. Professor Dumbledore moved it, told me not to go looking for it." The pained look that flashes in Harry's eyes doesn't go unnoticed by either of his companions. Hermione and Jason exchange a look of understanding.

"I'm sorry, Harry. It's just so risky to be out at night, you're very lucky you didn't get in trouble." Hermione pauses outside the library and glances tentatively at Jason, her hesitation is reflected in her eyes.

Jason grins and eases her doubts. "Harry told me everything," skirting around Hermione and walking into the library allowing them to follow him for a change he continues. "I looked through some of my own reading and haven't had much luck either. This Nicolas Flamel is an enigma."

Finding a table in a corner in the almost empty library, each of the trio takes a seat around the table. Harry drops his head into his hands, "What baffles me is Professor Snape's involvement. If we knew what he was searching for, we can unravel things and solve this mystery. I feel as if we are going in circles."

"We are. Until we can crack even one piece, it's going to continue." Jason stares out of the window frowning, lost in thought. "I'm not sure you're right about Professor Snape, though." He smirks at Harry's annoyed glance before continuing. "I mean about him hating you. He's just… well, Professor Snape. He doesn't show things like emotions. It's not his style. Professor Snape is too cool for that."

"Too… _cool_?" Hermione's eyes widen in disbelief, "I'm sorry, are we talking about the same man?"

Harry chuckles, "No, we aren't. You see a whole different side of Professor Snape than we do. Anyone not a Slytherin is immediately beneath his radar of importance." Harry looks at his hands, folded neatly on the table before him. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm not part of his Slytherin House. Honestly Jason, Professor Snape has this odd gleam of annoyance, almost a burning hatred when he looks at me. I wonder if it has to do with…"

Looking out the window, Harry stops speaking and closes his eyes, refusing to believe what his brain insists on piecing together. Professor Snape just can't be a Death Eater because he is too clever, too _good_ to be a dark wizard. Jason rests his hand on Harry's forearm giving it a friendly, encouraging squeeze. "It might be exactly that, Harry. We talked about it. If in doubt, always assume the worst to keep you safe."

Unbidden, the image of Professor Snape portrayed by the mirror comes to Harry's mind. Pride, acceptance and happiness reflects in his obsidian eyes as the mirror version of Professor Snape clasps Harry's shoulder. Harry is emotionally overwhelmed by the memory to the point that he is almost in tears. "I don't want to believe it, but…" Taking a long steadying breath, Harry closes his eyes tightly and nods. "You're right; I can't let my defences down."

* * *

Life returns to normal the next Monday. Normal is subjective, of course, and when normal is mentioned here it is purely by Hogwarts' standings. Students return from the holiday break, classes resume on schedule, friends reacquainted and rivals picked back up now that things are settling back into routine.

It is one of those days, the sun settling, the moon rising, the winter chill howling through the trees when a grunting, hopping, frustrated Neville makes his way through the halls on his way towards Gryffindor tower. He pauses at the stairwell to catch his breath before continuing where Harry and Jason catch up to the boy on their way to the library.

"Longbottom, haven't seen you in a while. How have…" Harry tilts his head at the boy with a raised eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Neville looks up and sighs heavily, almost falling over. "I-"

With arms swinging wildly, Neville tries to find his balance. Jason catches him before he can topple over. "Whoa, I got you."

"Thanks." Neville blushes at being caught in a silly situation and his clumsy actions. "Malfoy hexed me. Said he's been waiting for someone to try it on. Guess I was in the wrong place, like always."

"Aw, Longbottom, you can't let the likes of Malfoy bully you." Harry scratches his chin trying to figure out what to do with the boy. "Ideas, Vaisey?"

"One. It _should _work… I think." Jason pulls his wand out and looks from Neville to Harry. "My father always does it when my brothers make a mess of things. Father says it negates spells." When Neville looks concerned Jason smirks. "Negates, as in stops them."

"Oh." Neville looks only marginally relieved yet the concern is still in his eyes.

"_Finite Incantatem_," Jason does his best to sound confident, casting the spell as he's seen his father do a number of times. Much to their mutual disappointment it doesn't help. Thankfully it doesn't hurt Neville either. "I tried. Okay, nothing for it but to take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"Why do these things always happen to me?" Neville looks utterly perplexed. Jason tries not to chuckle as he slips Neville's arm over his shoulder to help him to the hospital ward.

"Because you let them happen, Longbottom. Listen," Harry pulls Neville's free arm over his shoulder and helps half carry the boy to the hospital ward with Jason. "You're better than Malfoy. You're smart. You're genuine, you care. Those are things that someone like Malfoy can't understand."

Neville gives Harry a lopsided grin, wanting desperately to believe his words. Neville mumbles his thanks when they reach the hospital door. Jason moves inside quickly to get Madam Pomfrey. "Here, this will cheer you up." Harry hands him his last chocolate frog.

"I do like biting their heads off. Makes Trevor nervous when I do though. Thanks, Harry… for everything." Neville hops to a chair near the entrance and chomps on the chocolate lost in thought.

Harry glances at the Famous Wizard / Witches card in Neville's hand. "Is that Professor Dumbledore?"

Neville glances at the card and hands it to Harry, "Yeah, I have like a dozen of him. Want it?"

Looking at the card, Harry grins. "He was my first card ever. First time I saw a moving photo-"

His words just stop. Neville looks over at Harry with concern, "Harry?"

Blinking Harry looks at Neville, a smile spreads across his face. "You're bloody brilliant, Neville Longbottom."

Brilliant may have been a bit of an exaggeration on Harry's part. Yet at that very moment, it was exactly how Harry felt so at least he hadn't completely lied to the boy.

When Jason arrives moments later with Madam Pomfrey, Harry gives excuses and practically runs with Jason in tow to the library to seek out Hermione. In his excitement, he rambles on about his journey to Hogwarts on the train and his time with Ron, mostly covering the fun new treats he had experienced including chocolate frogs.

Breathlessly, Harry drops into a chair opposite a confused Hermione. "It was on the train that I had my very first chocolate frog and the trading card was none other than our very own," Harry triumphantly drops the card on the table, "Professor Dumbledore."

Jason looks at the grinning professor, the twinkle in his blue eyes noticeable even on his trading card. "Okay, so…"

Harry flips the card over and points to the words inscribed on the back. Jason decides to humor Harry and reads it aloud. "Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of Dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, _Nicolas Flamel_!"

Hermione squeals, "Alchemy, of course!" Scampering away she is lost in aisles of books leaving the boys to watch after her until Hermione comes back with a large tome. Depositing the heavy book onto the table with a resounding thump, Hermione flips it open rambling on about having checked the book out and belatedly remembers the name, light reading and how could she possibly forget. "I never thought to even look here."

Jason glances at the yellowing pages and hides his amusement behind a bemused look, "Yes, the old moldy tomes are the first place one thinks to look for a clue. How odd you'd overlook such an obvious-"

Harry snorts at Hermione's glare. Jason grins before apologizing, "Sorry, Granger, but really, why would you think to look at an old book like that. I know I didn't. Not that I'm a Ravenclaw and have a clue to what you're rambling on about…"

Hermione turns the book and points to the text. Again being obliging, Jason reads aloud, "Nicolas Flamel, a well-known alchemist and only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with incredible powers. He owes his considerable age to the Elixir of Life which he and his wife, Perenelle, created using the Stone.

"The man is over six hundred years old, no wonder we didn't find him in anything current." Jason sits back and peers at Hermione, "So, in theory, Professor Snape is after this Philosopher's Stone that the big, bad Fluffy is guarding. We're still left with one question: why?"


	10. Detention

**Detention**

Life is getting more and more complicated. The past month has gone by in a whirlwind of events. Every time they turn around, there is good news only to be followed by bad news.

Good news: Harry, Jason and Hermione got a few more answers from Hagrid about what is guarding the Philosopher's Stone. It isn't just Fluffy guarding the stone, a number of professors were on hand to give towards the cause.

Bad news: Professor Snape is one of the professors. The irony of this news is not lost on the three students, even if Hagrid denies the remote chance that they're right about Professor Snape.

Good news: They were there in Hagrid's hut to witness the hatching of a dragon that Hagrid promptly named Norbert.

Bad news: Draco had followed them and was witness to the event as well. True to his Slytherin nature, Draco didn't immediately run to a staff member. Draco withheld this information until a more opportune time, goading Hermione, Jason and Harry with barely veiled threats at every turn.

Good news: Harry turned to Ron for help with the baby dragon. More accurately, Harry enlisted Ron's aid in contacting his brother, Charlie the dragon tamer. Charlie agreed to take Norbert off their hands and was sending friends to pick Norbert up.

Bad news: Dealing with Norbert became tricky, not to mention Hagrid was getting more emotionally attached. Ron was curious about the dragon and readily agreed to help Hagrid with a feeding only to be bitten by Norbert. Ron has barely gotten out of the hospital ward earlier tonight, they learned the hard way that Norbert is poisonous.

Good news: Draco found out about Norbert's transfer from Hagrid's care to Charlie's, got caught on top of the Astronomy tower before midnight and got detention.

Bad news: Harry and Jason got detention shortly afterwards and worse, Neville was caught along with them. Neville had his heart set on returning Harry's good deed by coming to the rescue and warning Harry about Draco's ploy. Unfortunately Professor McGonagall found him first.

All things considered, Harry isn't sure how he feels right now, other than utterly exhausted and he isn't allowed to rest just yet. In all the excitement of the evening, Harry forgot his invisibility cloak at the top of the tower. That in itself is bad. Professor Snape knows of Harry and Jason's detention and they are summoned to his office… immediately. In Harry's mind, this news is much worse.

Draco is leaving Professor Snape's office as Harry and Jason are arriving. Their encounter is less than pleasant, yet short lived.

The three boys are roughly the same height and build, Jason is a few inches taller, Draco is an inch shorter and Harry is somewhere in the middle. Yet somehow, even being the shortest of the three, Draco manages to appear to be looking down his nose at the other two.

Harry stands staring at Draco's nose, wondering exactly how the boy is pulling off this feat. Draco's lip curls into its customary sneer. "You'll pay for this, Potter."

Not to be outdone, Harry's emerald gaze challenges Draco. Standing straight and confident, Harry refuses to back down or be intimidated. Harry notes how his name always sounds like something disgusting passing Draco's lips as if he's spitting it out rather than speaking. Harry also notes the small waver in Draco's voice belying the barely contained rage. His lip curls into a mocking smirk, "You're alone, Malfoy. You haven't got it in you to face us."

Jason snorts. Whatever was to follow is cut short by the clipped baritone words from within Professor Snape's office, overriding any further discussion between the students. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Vaisey. In my office. Now."

Harry squares his shoulders and mentally adjusts his learned façade. Fighting the urge to appear meek when he slips past Draco, Harry steps forward with confidence to stand just behind Jason to face Professor Snape and his wrath. Jason gives a small nod of deference, "Yes, sir."

Professor Snape is wearing his customary black flowing robe with buttons and more buttons on each sleeve. Even past midnight, Professor Snape looks in complete control and the angry glare directed at him has Harry's stomach squirming. "Close the door."

Closing the door in Draco's face gives Harry a brief moment of triumph. Harry steps back into Professor Snape's office to stand in front of the desk sitting center of the room. Harry mentally counts to ten to calm his nerves. The sparsely furnished room is exceedingly tidy. Shelves of ingredients, specimen jars, and potions, broader bookcase filled with books, a set of weights for the delicate golden scale sitting beside it. Harry's eyes sweep the room curiously before Professor Snape clears his throat gaining his immediate attention.

"Explain yourselves." The barely contained anger and loathing in Professor Snape's eyes weighs on Harry. Jason stands stoic, his expression hasn't changed since entering the room. Harry drops his gaze to hide his shame.

Harry wants to speak plainly, openly, honestly. He wants to explain it all but if he does, Harry knows he'll still be in trouble and worse, get Hagrid and others in trouble. Jason and Harry discussed this topic during their walk down to the dungeon, weighing the pros and cons. Jason pointed out to Harry that speaking up will cause more damage than good.

Jason eventually convinces Harry to keep the truth quiet. Closing his eyes, Harry tries a different approach. "My actions are my own, it wasn't thought out, I admit but..." Excuses? No, Harry won't stoop to excuses and insult Professor Snape. Chancing a glance at the professor, Harry tries again. No excuses, just acceptance. "I'm sorry I failed you, sir."

"Oh?" Professor Snape rises from his chair to step over towards the fireplace, effectively turning his back on the two boys. "And because you apologize, feigning remorse, I'm simply to overlook this grievous mistake in judgment and make things right for the esteemed Boy-Who-Lived and his cohort?"

"Wha-" Harry shakes his head in earnest, allowing Jason to interrupt.

"Neither of us is feigning remorse, sir. Not in the way you imply. Do we regret our actions? No. Do we regret letting you down? Yes." Jason glances at Harry and he nods emphatically.

"We fully expect to be punished and do detention." Harry began, but stops short when Jason nudges him.

Professor Snape's lip curls when he hears the soft growl of frustration from Harry. "Of course you will serve your detention. I told you before, Mr. Potter, that there will be no special treatment for you. I will not make excuses nor-"

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't _want _special treatment. I don't know this Boy-Who-Lived." Harry swallows hard, fighting back the tears of frustration. He's raising his voice to the Head of Slytherin House, the man who could very well expel him, kill him, something. Harry didn't know and at the moment, didn't rightly care. How many times is this persona going to be shoved down his throat? He didn't ask to be the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe he'd be better off dead with his parents.

"Harry!" Jason tries to rein in his friend before there is no repairing the damage already done.

With his eyes squeezed shut, Harry presses on. "No, Jason. I can't be this Boy-Who-Lived. I'm Harry Potter. I'm just a first year student at Hogwarts, grateful to be allowed to go to this school and honored to be a Slytherin."

"_Honored_ to be a Slytherin?" Professor Snape turns then and looks at the distraught boy. The desperation, eagerness and fear so blatant and unmasked in Harry's moment of exposure before his hard earned mask of indifference slowly slips back into place. Professor Snape watches as Harry takes a calming breath before meeting his gaze. The truth is in Harry's eyes before the shutters drop into place. "Your father is turning in his grave to hear you say such a thing, boy."

"Sir?" Harry stares blankly at Professor Snape not sure how to interpret the hint of humor in the professor's tone that drips sarcasm.

"There is no need to confirm or deny your actions or intent during this evening's events. Mr. Malfoy has already supplied me with the letter from one Charlie Weasley with date and time of a rendezvous. Even without young Malfoy pointing out the obvious, anyone with half a brain knows only Hagrid would house a dragon." Professor Snape suppresses his curiosity as he looks at the two boys. "I expect six inches on the bezoar, where it is found, properties and uses by the end of potions on Friday. This along with your regular homework and do not be late for your detention."

Professor Snape raises an eyebrow as if silently asking why the boys are still in his office. Realizing that was their dismissal, Jason gives Professor Snape a small nod before they make good on their escape. "Good night, Professor."

Naturally this is not the end of their troubles. Harry and Jason lost fifty points each for Slytherin along with Malfoy's twenty, this is a huge loss of house points and puts Slytherin in last place for the first time in six years. Word spreads quickly and Harry takes the brunt of the blame. Neville's points deducted are also blamed on Harry, but that can't be avoided. At least Ron explained to Neville what happened so the boy was no longer angry with Harry.

Blaise lies his fork down on the table at breakfast, folding his hands before speaking. "Do you remember near the beginning of the school year, we talked about your manners?"

Harry freezes, slowly lowering his glass to the table. He looks at the empty plate in front of him. He hadn't eaten anything. Harry didn't touch a thing except the pumpkin juice. What could he have done to embarrass Blaise, "Yes."

"When you get detention and lose fifty points, that's worse." Blaise peers at Harry. "Just tell me it was worth it."

"It was, I swear." Harry watches the fleeting emotions appear and disappear from Blaise's face. Finally Blaise nods, accepting Harry's response and returns to his breakfast.

Exams are quickly approaching and Harry has thrown himself into his studies. Jason stares absently at his own text and Hermione is scheduling their study time to keep them both out of trouble. While Harry appreciates her efforts, her nagging is getting on his last nerve. "Listen, Granger, we need a break. Just one afternoon, it's a fabulous spring day and we're cooped up in this barmy library again."

Jason looks up from his faux quiz Hermione made up for them with hope gleaming in his eyes. "Just a couple of hours, Granger. Not even a full afternoon. Please?"

Hermione is outraged at first but before any of them know it she breaks down in a fit of giggles. "I never thought I'd live to see the day a Slytherin snake would beg _me_ for mercy."

The truth in her words are more than he can stand, Jason groans and launches himself at Hermione, tickling her relentlessly. "Evil woman!"

Squealing and laughing, Hermione finally breaks free from Jason. Only the damage is done, the three students are thrown out of the library by Madam Pince for being too loud. Hermione is embarrassed and mortified, but Harry and Jason are elated with their freedom.

They are talking and walking towards the stairs when Harry stops in his tracks groaning. "I forgot my homework." Harry glances back towards the library, "I know she's annoyed, but she wouldn't keep that from me, right?"

Jason smirks, "She's not annoyed with you as much as me and Granger. Hurry up. We'll wait for you."

Hermione harrumphs and smacks Jason's arm. "This is your fault, Jason Vaisey!"

Laughing Harry jogs back to the library. Glancing towards the back of the room, Harry realizes this is his chance. He dashes in so he can grab his parchment and skips back out before getting caught by Madam Pince.

Harry's steps slow when he gets back to Jason and Hermione. The scene playing out before him has a strange feeling of déjà vu. Jason is standing close to Hermione invading her personal space while her is back pressed against the wall. What really ties this scene into the déjà vu category is a professor, in this case it's Professor Quirrell, muttering to himself, walking in the other direction.

"What did I miss?" Harry watches Professor Quirrell's retreating back before he notices Hermione's deep red blush, releasing Jason's class tie. Without a word, Jason moves away quickly to the open classroom door feet away confusing Harry further. "Vaisey?"

Hermione grabs Harry's arm, pulling him back, her voice a low urgent whisper. "Someone was threatening Professor Quirrell, only we couldn't hear who it was."

Jason makes it back to them shaking his head. "No one is in there, but there is an open door in the back. Whoever was threatening him could have gone out that way."

"That makes no sense; usually at the back of a classroom is a professor's office, not a back entrance." Harry rubs his neck trying to piece this together. "So whose idea was the 'kiss'?"

Hermione blushes and drops her gaze, "I didn't _really _kiss him."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Miss Granger. That was one very hot non-kiss." Jason smirks as Hermione's blush deepens.

"Just better hope no one saw that stunt, you'll get a reputation, Granger." Harry laughs and pulls Hermione along with him. "Come on, let's go outside. I'm going stir crazy in this castle."

Upon leaving the castle for the first time since the incident on the Astronomy Tower, Harry pauses to take a deep breath. "Ah, freedom. I forgot how sweet it smells."

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione waves a hand in front of her nose, "That isn't freedom. If it is, it smells icky."

Hedwig and a barn owl swoop down towards them. Hedwig circles once and lands on Harry's shoulder. The barn owl hovers before Jason and drops his note in the boy's hands. The boys read their notes and simultaneously groan.

"What's wrong?" Hermione pets Hedwig with a finger down her soft white chest. Hedwig gently nips at Hermione's finger causing Hermione to jump and giggle. Hedwig flies off with a soft hoot, tousling Harry's hair as she takes flight.

"Detention." Jason sighs heavily, "I forgot about that."

"Me, too." Harry and Jason compare notes finding them identical. Jason gives a shudder, "With Mr. Filch at eleven? That can't be good."

Hermione bites her lip with worry and Harry gives her shoulder a gentle encouraging squeeze. "We'll be okay, Granger. No matter what we've done, they wouldn't possible allow us to die."

Hermione is trembling, looking close to tears. "Harry! What a _horrid _thing to say."

Harry winces. "Sorry, I meant that to make you feel better."

"Well you failed. Now I'm _really_ worried, Harry." Hermione crosses her arms in front of her trying not to look overly upset and failing.

Sighing softly for being an insensitive prat, Harry wraps his arms around Hermione and just holds her. "I'm sorry, Hermione."


	11. Forbidden Forest

**Forbidden Forest**

Sometimes Harry thinks killing Draco isn't such a bad idea. Really. Who would miss him? Okay other than perhaps his parents, maybe Crabbe or Goyle. Draco Malfoy is a pure and utter git according to Harry and possibly Jason and Neville. Harry is even willing to bet Hagrid isn't too fond of the blond boy right about now.

For their detention time, Harry, Jason, Neville and Draco were sent into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and Fang. They are searching for an injured unicorn. Small silver puddles of unicorn blood were found throughout the forest and the poor creature is either suffering or dead.

Jason and Harry had been walking with Hagrid while Draco and Neville were sent to walk along the other path with Fang. While Hagrid's group had little to no luck in finding the unicorn or whatever attacked it, they did meet up with a couple of centaurs. Ronan is a fiery red, while Bane is black as coal and they both are more fascinated with the current position of Mars and how bright it currently is, unusually so. They both agreed upon the oddities of the night skies, with long suffering sighs, and slow response times to Hagrid's questions about creatures that go bump in the night.

It wasn't long after this brief encounter with the centaurs that Hagrid left Jason and Harry on the path they were traveling to see to the other students. Red sparks were seen dancing in the night sky and in a panic Hagrid ran off. Jason and Harry stood as quietly as possible, exchanging whispered thoughts while awaiting Hagrid's return.

Hagrid huffs as he reappears with Fang, Draco and Neville. Apparently Draco just couldn't resist and scared Neville into casting the panicked red sparks which is what prompted Harry's not so pleasant thoughts of Draco's untimely demise. "Neville, you're wit' me an' Jason. Harry, you go wif Fang an' _tha'_ one."

Harry stifles a groan and simply nods. "Okay, Hagrid."**  
**

"Mars is bright tonight." Jason stares up at the sky.

"Unusually bright." Harry can't help but jab him in the ribs with his elbow before leaving with Fang and Draco.

Draco verbally jabs at Harry while gingerly stepping over roots, between branches and nervously glancing around. "Mars? Is that some type of code for I'm a moron?"

Harry is accustomed to Draco's barbs and this one is rather tame. Fang nudges Harry's leg, giving him what could only be a sheepish grin in his slobbery way. Harry smirks at the cowardly dog and pats him on the head as the three go deeper into the forest to the point that there isn't much more of a path. Listening to Draco's whining, insults and utter nonsense usually annoys Harry, but the small waiver of fear in the other boy's voice makes whatever is said tolerable.

With his hand at Fang's nape to keep the hound from moving forward, Harry stares wide eyed. His voice is almost a whisper that cracks at the last word. "I think we found it."

Draco tentatively steps forward peering in the moonlight at the large white shimmering form lying on the forest ground. This time when Draco curls his lip it's more of a sneer of disgust. "It stinks."

Harry sniffs and groans, "I think that was Fang."

Fang huffs, shaking his huge head and backs slowly away, whimpering. Draco and Harry watch Fang when movement catches their attention. Something very large slithers along at an alarming speed, looms over the shimmering form to feed. Draco is following Fang's example, only the boy is backing away much quicker, muttering. "Wha-wha-_what_ is THAT?"**  
**

"Shh!" Harry tries to warn Draco, but it's too late by then. The creature that was feeding has stopped and turns its attention towards them. Harry's heart is hammering in his chest, beating against his ribs to the point he's sure it will beat right through and onto the forest floor for the beast to feed on next. With his wand in hand, Harry points it at the creature while backing along with Draco. "Run, Malfoy!"

Harry looks over his shoulder, noting he's alone. When did that happen? "Bloody Malfoy!" An ominous hissing comes from that slithering creature and Harry lets out a blood curdling scream of fright. Harry's mind is reeling, with spells, charms, shields, hexes but the only thing he can manage is to fall backwards over a root, twisting his ankle when sheer white pain rips into his mind from his scar.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna-" Another movement cuts off Harry's ranting and view from the attacking unicorn eating... _thing_. A larger creature, darker than the slithering one - only not really darker, it's just different - stands between him and the attacking unicorn killer. Harry flinches, gripping his wand and somehow in his panic he sends off green sparks.

"Harry Potter! You are not safe here." The voice is not what gets Harry's attention, it's the sound of hooves scraping and stomping at the ground.

Looking up, Harry sees a hand thrust at him. Staring past the hand for a moment, Harry realizes it is another centaur, blond with a palomino body. "I am Firenze, you are not safe here, Harry Potter." Firenze's warning finally seeps through Harry's fear, prompting him into action. Harry reaches out to the offered hand and is yanked roughly onto the back of the centaur.

With trembling arms wrapped around Firenze's waist, Harry holds on as tight as he can without appearing too rude or causing the centaur discomfort. After all, he's never rode a horse, let alone a centaur. With his eyes closed tight, Harry tries not to fall. Firenze runs for a long stretch, much longer than Harry thought they would have to go. How far did they go into the forest? Is Firenze taking him to Hagrid or is he taking Harry deeper into the forest and did Harry just blindly trust this centaur because Ronan and Bane were nice? Sure Hagrid said they were good folk, but did that mean all centaurs are or just the few that Hagrid knows, and does Hagrid know Firenze?

"Hagrid," Firenze finally comes to a stop, his body has a light sheen of sweat from his efforts. Harry is still clinging to Firenze and trembling; partly from fright, partly from the cold air as they rushed through the forest.

"Firenze, good ta see ya. 'ave ya seen a boy-"

"Harry Potter, yes, I have the boy." Firenze turns his body sideways, showing Harry still clinging to him.

"Oh, Harry. I was worried aboutcha." Hagrid helps Harry down, dusting him off, almost knocking the boy off his feet in the process.

Clutching to Hagrid's beefy arm to catch his balance, Harry finally gets a better look at his savior. "Thank you, Firenze. Um, but how did you know my name?"**  
**

"Many know you. Many know your name. Not all are good. Not all are bad. The question you should be asking is not about you. It is about the creature lurking in the shadows." Firenze stoops so they are closer to eye level, peering curiously at Harry. "To kill something as pure as a unicorn tears at one's soul. So why would a sentient being risk such a price?"

Harry looks at his friends, Jason and Neville who have stepped closer to stand at Harry's side. The boy even glances at Malfoy wondering if he may have an answer for the centaur. Harry meets Firenze's gaze once more and shakes his head in defeat. "I don't know."

"Think Harry Potter," Firenze stands straight, looking up into the starry sky before speaking again. "Unicorn blood can sustain a life, even one that is almost extinguished; at a price."

Scraping and stomping the ground twice with a hoofed right foot, Firenze meets Harry's astonished gaze before continuing. "Do you know anyone desperate enough to risk their soul?"

"I..." Harry's eyes widen when the answer comes to him. His voice just barely a whisper, choked with fear. "Voldemort."

The look in Firenze's eyes confused Harry, a touch of fear and reverence, possibly hope. Harry's mind swims with the weight of this new knowledge. Jason tugs at his arm, "Let's go, Potter."

Neville gives a timid grin to Firenze, "Um, thanks for bringing Harry back."

"Thankee, Firenze, I must be gettin' the boys ta safety." Hagrid quickly ushers the four boys and Fang back towards his hut and the safety of the castle.

Harry takes one last look at Firenze and waves, only the centaur is already gone. The boys walk along, following Hagrid. Harry isn't sure he can forget what he's seen, heard and learned this evening and shudders. Jason walks a bit closer, worried for his friend. "Alright, Potter?"

Nodding without speaking is the best the boy can do at this time. Harry is suddenly exhausted and his warm bed sounds really good.

They reach the Entrance Hall. They stand for an awkward moment until Draco huffs impatiently and walks away. Harry watches his retreating back and has a sudden urge to catch up to him and make sure he is okay. "Night Longbottom, night Hagrid."

Hagrid walks with Neville towards the Gryffindor towers, leaving Jason to wave bye and catch up to Harry. "What's the hurry, Potter?"

"What? Oh, nothing. Sorry, after that scare out by the dead unicorn, I don't like the idea of Draco walking alone." Harry shoots a look at Jason. "Pathetic, I know."

Jason doesn't reply, he simply smirks keeping his comments to himself. Then again, if he did mention he agreed, maybe Harry wouldn't feel so awkward. "You aren't pathetic, Potter."

The boys take off at a slow jog, rounding the corner in time to watch Draco reach the common room safely. Harry's pace slows immediately with a soft sigh of relief. "What do you make of all this, Vaisey?"

"All what?" Jason frowns, his mind sorting through all the bits of information they've gathered. It is all rather complicated and it was interesting until tonight. Tonight has shined a new light on things, a new possible player but can it be true? Is what Firenze said true?

The two have made their way through the common room and into the safety of their dorm room. "Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone being guarded by several staff members and a three headed, drooling hound here on school grounds. Professor Snape wants this Philosopher's Stone, but why? For Vold-" Harry pauses as Jason flinches, "You-Know-Who or for himself?"

Jason sits on his bed and kicks off his shoes in great relief. Staring absently at his wiggling toes, Jason reflects on all that Harry just said. "It's all a bit crazy. If I wasn't there to witness some of this, I'd say you're nutters but you aren't."

"Bloody hell, is that what has been going on?" Blaise moves from his bed to sit next to Jason. "I'd say you're mental but I'm wagering you aren't. So now what? We can't very well go to our Head of House, since he's being implicated. Talk to Dumbledore then? What proof do you have of any of this?"

Harry pulls off his shoes and drops them to the floor with a small thud. "None. That's the thing. I overheard some, investigated and pieced together others and Hagrid inadvertently admitted a thing or two. All circumstantial and no real proof." Staring at his muddy shoes, Harry is suddenly very exhausted. "I saw a dead unicorn tonight. Its coat was still shimmering, its blood was pooled everywhere, silver and thick. It was so... sad."

Slowly undressing he doesn't notice the worried looks exchanged by his roommates. "I'm sorry, mate. That had to be an odd sight." Blaise rubs a hand across the back of his neck and moves back to his bed. "By the way, there's something weird on your bed. Soft, I never seen it before."

Harry's eyes move to his bed and he lets out a small gasp. "My cloak. I thought for sure I lost it."**  
**

"It was on the tower days ago. I wonder who knew, who would return it…" Jason is standing beside him, his fingers slide along the fabric. "Someone is making sure you don't lose that."

"Zabini, I've not been entirely honest with you. At Christmas while you were off on holiday, I got this." Harry slips his pajamas on and watches Jason lift the cloak, fascinated once again at how it shimmers so beautifully. "Try it on, mate."

Jason smirks at Harry and hands it to Blaise. "Okay…" Blaise eyes both Jason and Harry before flicking the cloak with flair and wrapping it around his shoulders. So busy watching the other two, Blaise doesn't notice the change immediately so it takes Jason pointing at the mirror behind him before the reality hits him.

"It's…" Blaise blinks and stares at Harry. "This is yours? Where did you get this?"

"It was my father's, it was returned to me. Honestly, I didn't know about it and I haven't a clue who sent it." Harry pulls the empty box from his trunk and hands the card to Blaise.

Blaise reluctantly returns the cloak and reads the card. "Lucky bugger."

"I suppose so." Harry folds the cloak, reverently placing it back in the box and setting the card on top before closing it again. While having an invisibility cloak is indeed very lucky, having a connection to his father means more to Harry. "We are the only ones who know of the cloak. It's better that way. Oh and Hermione, she knows too."

"As well as whoever sent it to you." Jason adds as he is buttoning up his pajama shirt before crawling into his bed.

Harry sets his cloak back into his trunk before crawling into bed. "Right. If the wrong people find out about it, it will be stolen or worse, used to do something bad."

"Like getting past a certain three headed dog?" Blaise crawls under his own blanket stealing a glance at Harry's trunk.

"Wouldn't work." Harry turns on his side facing his friends.

"You tried?" Jason doesn't quite hide the shock and disappointment in his voice.

Harry chuckles, "No, Mrs. Norris knew I was there in the library. I'm assuming if she can see me while I'm under the cloak, Fluffy can too."

"Fluffy?" Blaise is stunned, "Who names a three headed monster, Fluffy?"

Jason and Harry both laugh, "Hagrid, of course!"

* * *

**AN:** Debating on what to do, which direction to take. I'll be going through all seven years/books but unsure if I should break them up as seven stories or one long continuous story under one title.


	12. Blue Wings

**Blue Wings**

The spring day is a bit chilly, but the sun is doing its best to keep it tolerable. Four students relax for the first time in weeks now that their exams are finally behind them. The courtyard beyond the castle entrance is long and wide. Stone benches wrap around trees that are barely remembering to awaken sprouting forth buds of life from brown, bare limbs. Hermione sighs softly as she sits back on a bench resting on her palms, lifting her face to the sun. "That was easier than I had imagined."

Jason chuckles softly, nudging her with his elbow. "Have I thanked you for being an insufferable tutor yet?"

Grinning, Hermione keeps her face towards the sun, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "Yes, but don't let that stop you from singing my praises."

Harry crouches suddenly, hand to his forehead wincing with an audible hiss. Blaise is beside him immediately, steadying him, "Again?"

"Yes," Harry clutches Blaise for support. "It's getting worse."

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione's voice is filled with concern, "Should we take you to Madam Pomfrey?"

"He's not sick, it's his scar." Jason is leaning forward watching his friend with concern. "It started the night in the forest."

"Actually, if I remember correctly," All eyes sans Harry's turn towards Blaise expectantly, "on our first night at Hogwarts, when I first met Potter, it happened that night, too."

"I remember that." Harry groans softly. "But that _thing_ in the forest, the pain from my scar was so blinding, I thought my head would split in two." Harry can feel the pain easing, his grip on Blaise loosens. He wonders how many bruises he's caused Jason and Blaise. Harry's voice is suppressed with emotion, "Sorry."

Jason stands and helps Blaise guide Harry to sit on the bench beside Hermione. They exchange one of their many concerned looks before Jason crouches before Harry. "Do you think it's You-Know-Who related? After what Firenze said…"

Harry's eyes are still closed, but the stress around his eyes has lessened. "Honestly it feels like an early warning, something has been eating at my mind, like I'm missing something. Something very important."

"Well, as long as Professor Dumbledore is here, the Philosopher's Stone is safe." Hermione looks at the boys one by one for confirmation, "right?"

The confidence her comment started with failed her in the end. Harry grabs her hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I doubt Professor Snape would try anything as long as Professor Dumbledore is around." Slowly Harry eases his eyes open again, emerald orbs lock onto the hazel eyes before him. "What am I missing, Vaisey?"

"I don't know." Jason gives a small shrug and is interrupted by Blaise.

"What I find odd about all this is Hagrid." Blaise pauses long enough to gather his thoughts. The others know of his dislike of the giant man and are curious where this line of thought is heading. "I can't get past the idea that it was a bit too convenient that your friend is fascinated by dragons and some random card player simply _happens _to have one for him to win."

"The man was relieved to be rid of it." Jason roughly quotes something Hagrid had said to them. Harry's eyes widen and Jason stands abruptly. "Who in their right mind would go to play cards at a public place with a dragon egg in their pocket, knowing full well they're illegal but someone that intends to lose it or use it to their advantage."

"We need to go speak with Hagrid." Hermione's voice is small but filled with conviction. The four waste no more time and head directly to Hagrid's hut on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid looks up at their arrival and grins at the students. Blaise is immediately uncomfortable and stops several paces behind the others, hands shoved in his pocket as if afraid to touch anything unclean. Hagrid is sitting in front of his home whittling a stick of wood with a small knife, sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled as always with his beard finally growing back from its scorched shortened uneven length. Fang huffs in their general direction, opting not to move away from Hagrid's side on such a fabulous day to lazily lounge in the sunshine. "Exams finished then?"

Harry blinks for a moment to clear his thought process, "Um, yes."

"Hagrid, when you got Norbert." Hagrid's frightened gaze flicks towards Blaise, but Jason doesn't take too much time to address his concerns. "It's okay, listen, we were wondering. The man who gave you the egg, what did he look like?"

Dropping his gaze back to the stick in his hand, Hagrid's brow furrows in thought. "I dunno. 'e was wearing a cloak the whole time wit' 'is hood up."

Harry steps forward, crouching beside Fang, his hand immediately dropping on the hounds head to scratch behind the ear. Harry isn't convinced this mystery man wasn't up to something and presses Hagrid for answers. "You never saw his face?"

"Tha's not so uncommon at the Hog's Head. Shady kind of place, no' all folks wanna be seen and like ta blend in wit' the crowd." Hagrid fiddles with the stick in his hand feeling a bit defensive.

Blaise steps forward impatiently, they aren't getting answers fast enough for his taste. "Did this fellow talk to you about Hogwarts, possibly your job here as the Grounds Keeper?" Hagrid looks past the others at Blaise, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. "You must have fascinating stories. Not many can boast about the day to day work you endure, the creatures within the Forbidden Forest that you care for."

Harry tries to hide his smirk as Fang huffs, covering his muzzle with his paw. Hagrid on the other hand sits straighter, a gleam of pride is lit in his eyes and Harry smiles at Blaise and his silver tongued Slytherin ways. "Aye, well 'e wanted ta know if I could 'andle a beast like Norbert. So I told 'im... I said after Fluffy, a dragon would be a might easier. Ya just gotta know 'ow ta handle 'em. Take Fluffy, fer instance, jus' play tha' beast some music and it soothes 'im ta sleep it does."

Hagrid's pleased smile fades quickly. "Ferget I said tha'. I shouldna said, tha'."

The four students exchange a look, turn on their heels and, without so much as a word amongst them, head back towards the castle at a jog. "We have to find Professor Dumbledore, warn him that Professor Snape knows how to get past Fluffy, it was his last obstacle. Nothing but the Headmaster can keep him out now."

"Still not sure it is Professor Snape that is after the Stone." Harry glances at Hermione before she continues that thought. "It has been over a month since Norbert was given to Hagrid, hatched and taken away. He's had plenty of time-"

"No he hasn't. Professor Dumbledore has been here to keep an eye on things." Jason reminds her quickly and she nods in agreement knowing he's right.

Reaching the Entrance Hall they all come to a stop, staring at each other, the stairs, the hallway. Harry's heart is hammering in his chest again and his scar decides now would be a good time to send him a jolt of pain. Wincing, Harry grabs his forehead as Hermione grabs his shoulders, bracing him. Jason combs his fingers through his own hair. "Does anyone know where his office is?"

Blaise groans in disbelief, "_Great_. You two manage to get detention in the Forbidden Forest, but don't know where his office is?"

Professor McGonagall gives Blaise a disapproving frown as she overhears his comment, juggling the armful of books she snaps at them. "What are you doing loitering in the Entrance Hall?"

"Professor!" Jason's relief takes her by surprise, obvious by Professor McGonagall's eyebrow rising instantly. "We were hoping to speak with Professor Dumbledore. It's a bit, erm… personal." Jason flinches slightly at the oddity of his request, especially at how un-Slytherin Jason is behaving.

"Professor Dumbledore is a busy, important man. Why, he just left ten minutes ago to the Ministry for Magic for an emergency meeting." Professor McGonagall watches as each of the four faces are crestfallen and panicked to different degrees. Harry groans, clutching his head while Hermione gives his shoulders a soft squeeze of support. "What is wrong with Mr. Potter?"

"Just a touch of a headache," Blaise responds quickly. The last thing they want is for Harry to be locked up for the evening in the hospital wing.

Professor McGonagall's curiosity is piqued even more seeing how three Slytherins are acting so out of character, mostly Blaise who is usually so reserved in a public setting. "Yes, well, run along then. Dinner will be in a few-"

"Is there no way to contact him? This is rather important." Blaise and Jason exchange an odd look but they can't take back Hermione's question as much as they'd like to.

"More important than an emergency at the Ministry for Magic? I think not, Miss Granger." Bristling with indignation, Professor McGonagall snaps once again. "Now move along-"

Harry has had enough bickering, it isn't helping the searing pain in his head. "We know about the Philosopher's Stone."

Professor McGonagall drops her books to the stone floor, her jaw drops along with them. Stunned into silence, Professor McGonagall tries to compose herself. "How do you even know about…"

Now that the die is cast, Harry continues cautiously, "We know someone is trying to get it, to steal it for ominous reasons."

"How-"

"I'm not sure that matters at the moment. What is more important is we contact Professor Dumbledore immediately. Don't you agree?" Harry's head is no longer pounding as hard as it had been, the pain easing, his vision clearing. He can stand taller and Hermione lets her hands fall away from him.

Hermione's voice is soft and confident, "Please don't ask how we know certain details. We'd rather not get anyone else into trouble. The four of us know, we didn't tell anyone else. And it doesn't change the fact that someone is going-"

"Nonsense," Professor McGonagall has regained her composure and is over her shock. Hermione winces at the no-nonsense tone of Professor McGonagall and shrinks behind Harry. With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall's books scattered around the floor are piling together. "The item in question is perfectly safe. I don't know how you found out, but this ends now. Go outside until dinner."

They watch Professor McGonagall walk away with the books, but they don't move to go outside. "It's tonight, then." They look at Harry, both boys nodding in agreement. Hermione on the other hand is staring with wide frightened eyes behind Harry.

"What do we have here?" Professor Snape looks at them with a quirked eyebrow.

"Professor Snape," Jason swallows past the lump in his throat. "Always a pleasure, sir."

The amused tug at Professor Snape's mouth is gone as quick as it shows, "Indeed." Professor Snape's gaze goes from one student to the next, landing on Harry last. His lip curls in distaste before he calms his appearance. "All students should be outside, enjoying the spring day until dinner. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were up to something."

Harry hesitantly steps forward, "We had just spoken with Professor McGonagall and were about to-"

Professor Snape's harsh glare chokes the words from Harry. "Then I suggest you go outside. Now." Professor Snape's voice drops, just as menacing, just as smooth as always; the dulcet baritone gives a warning Harry can't ignore. "If I find you out wandering after curfew, I will personally see you expelled."

There is no arguing with Professor Snape; there is no getting around his directive. Harry stops as he reaches the sunshine, standing on the front steps. "Tonight I'm going to use the cloak. I'm going to make sure Professor Snape doesn't get the Philosopher's Stone, even if it kills me."

"I'm coming with you." Jason nods as Harry tries to argue. "You can't do this alone, I'm coming."

"I know I'm going to regret this." Blaise takes a deep breath, shoves his hands in his pocket and glares balefully at Harry and Jason, "I'll go."

"You can't, Harry." Hermione's eyes are full of apprehension, "You heard Professor Snape! He'll expel you if you're caught."

"Hermione," Harry snorts when Hermione's eyes widen hearing her given name, "listen, if I don't go to stop him and he manages to get the Philosopher's Stone to bring back You-Know-Who, then there won't be a school to worry about. Being expelled is the least of my worries right now."

Jason slips an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer giving her comfort and strength. "Granger, we won't fail. You'll see. Just have a little faith for Slytherin know how, yeah?"

"Slytherins are ambitious, shrewd, cunning, and achievement-oriented." Hermione quotes, nods and takes a calming breath.

Jason takes a step back and smirks. "We got this covered."

* * *

Blaise closes his book and looks across the room at Harry. The last person in the common room has finally left for bed. He pushes away from his chair, walks without a word to his area in the dorm room and drops his book on his bed. Harry silently follows him and opens his trunk to remove the cloak.

Jason pushes off his bed to run his fingers through his hair. Each boy takes a moment to mentally and physically prepare. Harry does a mental check; cloak, wand, wooden flute. His mind blanks. Harry looks at Jason and then Blaise. No, that's all he needs; cloak, wand, wooden flute and his friends. With a small grin he makes his way towards the dorm door, Blaise and Jason following after him.

Harry steps into the common room and makes his way towards the door, Jason on his heels. "Where are you off to? Don't you think you've lost enough points for Slytherin House? It's your fault that we're in last place for the first time in _six_ years!"

"Malfoy." Harry's gaze hardens, "Listen, I don't have time for you tonight."

"I don't exactly care, Potter." Draco points his wand in Harry's face spitting out Harry's last name as he tends to do, with venom and distaste. "You aren't going out after curfew. You will _not_ lose our house more points. I won't allow it."

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Blaise watches with no emotions as his curse hits Draco causing the boy to lock up with the full body bind and fall forward with a sickening crunch.

Jason nudges Draco with his foot, rolling his body over and gracing Draco with a small shrug. "Potter said we didn't have time. You should have listened."

The three make it to the common room door and Jason gives Blaise a smirk. "I think you broke his nose."

"We don't have time for this." Harry breaks up their conversation and the boys draw closer together in order to fit under the cloak.

Blaise and Jason are roughly the same height, standing shoulder to shoulder behind Harry. They walk slowly through the castle and up the stairs towards the door at the end of the hallway on the third floor only to stop at the landing when Peeves, the poltergeist floats overhead. "I hear but don't see, but I know, I know! You're there somewhere and I'll see, I'll see! Maybe I should get Filchy? Hmmm? Oh the fun, the fun!" Peeves cackles and flies in loops through the air.

"Peeves!" Harry disguises his voice as best he can and it catches Peeves' attention. "The Bloody Baron has his reasons for being invisible."

"Baron! Mr. Bloodiness Baron, sir." Peeves stops his loops, tilts his head and bobs up and down in the air as if treading water. "I didn't know, didn't see!"

"Go, Peeves. I have business here and don't want to be disturbed." Harry's voice sounds so foreign even to his own ears. "_Now_, Peeves!"

"Yes, sir!" Peeves dips and loops before flying off with a loud cackling laugh. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir!"

"Smooth, Potter." Blaise nods in approval and Harry graces him with a small grin.

"I'm surprised that worked." Jason chuckles.

Once again the three move forward until they reach the far door. The door is ajar. Harry doesn't hesitate to move them forward through the door. Harry pauses before entering, his voice is low in order to not disturb Fluffy. "This is it, the last chance to change your mind and head back to the dorms."

Jason snorts, his breath brushes past Harry's cheek. "Not happening, I'm going."

"I've already cursed Malfoy, do you really think I'm going to head back now?" Blaise nudges Harry with his shoulder, "Stop procrastinating. We don't know how much of a head start Professor Snape has on us."

"Right." Harry pushes the door open and the three carefully step inside.

Fluffy sniffs around but appears confused, smelling intruders yet not seeing them. Under the cloak the boys shuffle towards the right in order to be on the side of the trap door. Harry pulls the wooden flute from his pocket and plays it like an instrument. The effect is immediately obvious. One head yawns, the middle shakes it slowly with droopy eyes and the third smacks its lips, tongue lolling out its maw. First head nudges the middle head. The third drops to lay on its front paw shortly followed by the other two.

Harry has been playing with short breaths in between and the three move cautiously forward. Jason pulls the cloak, folds it and hands it to Blaise before crouching near Fluffy's left paw. The trap door is heavy and it takes both Jason and Blaise to pry it open while Harry continues to play the owl flute. Blaise grimaces, waving a hand in front of his face. "This dog needs a mint."

Jason smirks at Blaise and nods towards the hole. "Ladies first, yeah?"

Blaise boxes his ear, "Then in you go, Vaisey." Chuckling Jason salutes them both and drops into the darkness. Blaise looks through the gloom, "Vaisey?"

"Surprisingly soft landing. Hurry up then." Jason's voice calls up to them.

Still playing, Harry nods at Blaise and then he is alone. Taking a shallow breath, Harry plays a bit longer to ensure Blaise has landed then positions himself beside the opening. Gripping the flute in hand, Harry half jumps, half falls into the gloom, landing on a plant that does indeed cushion his landing. "Huh, why would they do us a favor by making our landing softer? Seems out of-"

"Bloody hell," Blaise looks around them in a panic. "Be still, it's Devil's Snare!"

Jason grimaces as a vine wraps around his legs working its way upwards. "Fabulous, I can hear the gossip now, three Slytherin students witty enough to get past the pup foiled by a leafy snare. Please tell me one of you paid a lick of attention in Herbology."

A muffled cry comes from Harry as a vine wraps around his middle and he pulls the other from his mouth. Blaise hears Harry and scoffs, "Be still, Potter. Devil's Snare works faster if you panic and fight it."

"Can't… breathe." Harry closes his eyes and mentally struggles to relax.

"Professor Sprout said…" Blaise stares off for a moment, "Devil's Snare prefers… oh, right. Obvious isn't it? Dark, damp. This is the perfect…"

"Then maybe light a fire so we can get out of this, I can't seem to reach my wand and I'm not sure Potter can even speak any longer." Jason nods towards Harry and Blaise looks again at their roommate.

"Right!" Harry has stopped struggling, but the damage was done and it is effectively cutting off his air supply. "Vaisey, get ready to help Potter..." Blaise frowns and looks for the least destructive area to cast the spell, or at least the safest place that will cause them the smallest amount of injury. "_Incendio_."

Harry's eyes are squeezed shut, his lungs feel as if they're ready to explode in want for air only to be sucking in lungfuls seconds later. Jason and Blaise wriggle free and scramble to Harry. Harry watches the flame lick at the plant, his eyes moving along with the destruction as it approaches them, growing as it does. With his arms free at last, Harry pulls his wand and points at the flames, "_Aguamenti_!"

Coughing on the smoke that slowly filters upwards towards the trapdoor, the three boys move towards the only exit available to them. "Good job, Zabini."

Jason snorts, "Those dancing little blue flames of Granger's would have been safer, but yes, good job, Zabini."

Harry coughs a few more times, his lungs feel raw and the dampness around them isn't helping. The sound of incessant dripping water causes him to shudder. Blaise slows, cocking his head to the side. His voice is low, cautious. "Do you hear that?"

Jason and Harry strain to hear as well. Following Blaise's lead, Jason's voice is also low, "Rustling, clinking, creepy."

Harry and Blaise both nod in agreement, "Ghost?" Harry shrugs as if his suggestion isn't totally off the mark.

Blaise shakes his head, "A poltergeist, like Peeves, causes trouble. They aren't much of an enchantment for protection."

They reach the lit room at the end of the hallway and take a moment for their eyes to adjust. Harry takes his glasses off and uses the inside of his robe to clean them. "Weird looking birds."

"There's a door over there." Jason points across the room. "Think those things will attack if we head to it?"

Harry slips his glasses back on and peers up at the flying forms. "They look… shiny."

"Door, Potter." Blaise redirects his attention.

"Right." Harry dashes for the door but is not accosted by the shiny flying forms. "It's locked." Harry points his wand at the lock, "_Alohomora_."

Jason leans against the wall beside the door. "Hmm, we need a key."

Blaise points upwards, "Shiny. They aren't birds." The other two turn to look at what Blaise is pointing at. "Those are flying keys."

"Ours will be…" Jason crouches and stares at the lock. "I'd guess an old fashioned silver type."

"Now to figure out how to…" Harry stops mid-sentence to point to three brooms at the far end of the room. "Brilliant."

All three students grin, "This is going to be fun." Jason is almost giddy as he grabs a broom. "I love flying."

"Me too, I really want to learn to play quidditch, it looks like fun." Harry kicks off the ground after the other two and the boys begin circling around in search of the right key. "There!"

One key, old fashioned, and silver with blue wings is not nearly as lively as the others. It still manages to fly out of reach and avoid capture, but its wings are ruffled differently as if it has been already caught once. Jason and Blaise catch up to Harry quickly and after a bit they too see their quarry.

"Jason get under it, Blaise get above, we need to corner this bugger." Harry directs his friends who move instantly without further prompting.

Blaise moves a bit quicker, careful not to hit the ceiling or any of the other keys while he goes. Jason plunges a few feet before leveling and inching upwards towards the key. Harry circles from the left, easing it towards the right and before they know it, the key dodges and Harry shoots forward, arm stretched outward. He can feel the wind from the key's wings fluttering on his fingertips. Harry looks away from the key for a second, noting how they're closing in on the wall. With a small burst of speed, Harry snatches his prey and pulls back on the broom bracing himself for the impact that doesn't come.

"Great flying, Potter. You could be a seeker." Jason grins at him and Blaise chuckles at the surprise on Harry's face.

"Okay, so let's get out of here. Hmm?" Blaise flies to the ground and hops off the broom, setting it against the wall where they found them. He's closely followed by Harry and Jason. Jason takes Harry's broom as Harry marches over to the door.

The moment the door is unlocked, the key flies away, a little worse for wear. The key struggles to take flight and Harry winces. "Poor thing, I hope I didn't break it."


	13. Checkmate

**AN: **Sorry for the late update. Vacation got in the way. This is Saturday's update, tomorrow will be back on my regular Tues, Thurs, Sat updates

* * *

**Checkmate**

"You don't think we really have to..." Harry motions around them swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I'm really lousy at this."

"True, but I'm not." Jason smirks at Harry with an air of confidence he only vaguely feels. Walking up to the black king, Jason surveys the life sized chess board feeling small and insignificant in comparison. Combing his fingers through his hair, Jason taps the side of the king's bishop beside him. The king's bishop immediately stands straighter, rolling his shoulders as if easing a strained muscle. The cloaked bishop looks down towards Jason its face shrouded within the shadow of its hood. "If I'm not mistaken, we have to join you in order to get through the door."

If he could see the bishop's face, Jason imagines it would be smirking as it gives a curt nod. "Brilliant. Thanks." Jason steps forward again, walking amongst the chess pieces and across the board as if scouting a battlefield. "Okay, we can do this. Potter, you take the spot of the queen's bishop. Zabini you're the queen's castle."  
Harry and Blaise turn immediately mimicked by their counter pieces. The queen's bishop and castle step off the chessboard leaving the two spots for the boys to occupy.

"Where will you be?" Harry adjusts his glasses and tries not to fidget nervously in his square.

With a quick look around, Jason nods at the black king's knight with a bit of a grin. The knight salutes Jason with its sword prior to leaving the board. "I'm the king's knight."

The moment Jason takes his place the white pieces accept the challenge and come to life. As customary in Wizard's chess white moves first and a white pawn boldly moves forward to officially begin the game. Without hesitation, Jason directs the black pieces and the game is in full force. When a piece is taken, it is brutally slain by the attacker then mercilessly dragged off the board to be tossed aside like rubbish.

The white chess pieces are swift in their attacks, aggressive and bold. Jason directs the black pieces with confidence, tightening his fist and gritting his teeth when it becomes necessary to sacrifice one of his own. The board is practically clear after some intense and risky moves. Pausing for only a moment, Jason closes his eyes and takes a cleansing breath. The faceless white queen looks down at him. Accepting his fate, Jason turns towards his friends.

"Harry, after my next move, you will checkmate the king." Jason's voice is steady, even if his hands aren't.

Blaise is immediately on edge when he hears Jason use Harry's first name, "What are you up to, Vaisey?"

Harry takes a shuddering breath and answers for Jason. His voice is hollow. "He's going to sacrifice the knight to the queen."

"He _is_ the knight, Potter." Blaise scowls pointing at the black queen's knight already cast aside in a heap.

"I know." Harry's voice is barely audible. Blaise's mouth closes with an audible click, hardening his heart for what is coming.

"Once you checkmate the king, keep going. We don't know how many more enchantments there are and we have no idea how far ahead the professor is." Jason stands a bit taller, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Mentally bracing himself, Jason makes his move. As expected the white queen pounces without hesitation, bringing back her stone arm and backhanding Jason, connecting with his right temple. With a cry of shock and pain, Jason drops. Harry winces, looking away as the white queen drags his friend's motionless body from the board.  
When the white queen is back in place, standing calm and regal, Blaise prompts Harry to continue. "Let's go, Potter." Blaise's voice is deceptively strong and Harry simply nods, not trusting his own just yet.

Stepping diagonally three spaces towards his left, Harry looks up at the white king. "Checkmate."

The white king pauses for a moment as if weighing his options before removing his crown and dropping it at Harry's feet in surrender. The moment the crown lands, the pieces return to immobile stone statues. Blaise and Harry cast a look towards Jason before heading towards the door. Harry hesitates on the other side of the chessboard. Blaise's words break through to Harry. His voice holds more confidence than his eyes as Blaise meets Harry's gaze, "We have to keep going."

He knows Blaise is right, but Harry has to steel his heart before turning the doorknob and moving forward. Making it into the next room Blaise comes to a skidding halt, recoiling and dry heaving. "Bloody hell, what is it with these people and trolls?"

Harry's eyes, nose and throat burn from the stench of the troll. Sprawled across the floor is a larger troll than they faced on Halloween; incapacitated, or dead, either way it stinks beyond reason. Harry grabs Blaise's arm and pulls him into the next room in order to escape the stench. Slamming the door behind them, gasping for breath, Blaise sniffs warily at his clothes. "I don't think a dozen baths will get that horrid odor off of me."

"I suppose reminding you we have to exit through that room would be unwise." Blaise's retort is effectively cut off by a whooshing sound behind them. The threshold of the door they just crossed is now cut off by a magical purple blaze blocking any idea of retreat. "At least the smell is gone."

Blaise smirks at Harry. Blaise wipes his mouth with a handkerchief that he folds and presses back into his pocket when he's done. "Droll as always, Potter."

"Do you always carry a hanky?" Harry raises an eyebrow at Blaise while taking a better look at their surroundings.

"Naturally and you should, too." Blaise points at the opposite wall, "more fire."

"Why?" Harry walks to the middle of the room where a table is placed with different vials, seven in all; some short, some tall, some round, some narrow, each unique in appearance. Lying beside them is a note.

"It wouldn't be much of a challenge if there was nothing standing in our way." Blaise reasons giving Harry a curious glance when the other boy snorts.

"No, I mean: why should I carry a hanky?" Harry doesn't bother hiding his smirk while picking up the parchment.

"You carry a handkerchief just in case you need one." Blaise reads over Harry's shoulder and stares at the vials. "Brilliant, really the man is sheer brilliance."

"Yes, Professor Snape is brilliant. Now what does it mean?" Harry sets the parchment in front of Blaise since he's already figured this out, or Harry hopes he has.

"It's a riddle. Shame Granger isn't here, she'd love this. Ravenclaw's ward is a riddle to be solved, never a simple password." Blaise slowly reads the clues again. "Nettle wine's left side is poison; the potion to move back is on the end; big and little are safe; second left, second right..."

"Leaving us..." Harry peers at the bottles, both boys grinning at the same time, "with the little one."

"Right and the one at the right end is to go through the purple. Like I said, the man is brilliant." Blaise hands the small bottle to Harry. "You go stop the professor. I'll head back and grab Jason, fly us out and see if I can get word to Dumbledore or possibly get through the thick skull of that rigid McGonagall. Seriously that woman needs a man."

"Volunteering?" Harry laughs at the murderous look Blaise is casting at him and steps back out of reach. "Okay, I'll see what I can do to hold him off, try not to take too long."

"Remember the spells I taught you." Blaise grabs his potion and clinks vials with Harry.

"Good luck." Harry watches Blaise drink his potion, set the vial down and shiver.

"Icy…" Blaise rushes through the purple flames unscathed.

"I'm counting on you, Zabini." Harry's voice is soft, meant more for himself than expecting Blaise to hear his parting words. Staring at the small vial of liquid, Harry faces towards the black flames, lifts the vial in a toast one last time before drinking. "Cheers."

Harry tips his head back, drinking the dark swirling liquid from the smallest vial. An overwhelming cold runs through him, like ice in his veins. Harry shudders from the cold, the vial slipping from his trembling hand shatters at his feet. Squeezing his eyes shut Harry prays to anyone listening for this potion to work.

His trembling hand slips through the black flames and a grin quirks tugging at his lips. Harry can feel the heat but it doesn't burn him. With a burst of nervous energy, Harry rushes through the black flames still expecting vast pain only to exhale in relief on the other side.

Harry's relief is short lived naturally; there is still the matter of facing the professor and keeping him from taking the Philosopher's Stone. Harry stares in disbelief. "Professor?"

He doesn't bother turning around, Professor Quirrell simply raises his eyes to look at him using the mirrors reflection. "Yes, of course it's me. No one would expect me, no one should ever expect me; stuttering, cowardly Quirinus Quirrell."

Harry slowly moves forward, his mind is reeling, head shaking refusing to believe who is standing before him. "No, but it was Professor Snape-"

"You were merely supposed to believe it was Severius. You're such a bother, Potter." Professor Quirrell briefly turns towards Harry casting wandless magic with no real effort, "_Incarcerous_."

Ropes spring forth from the floor, winding around Harry, effectively stopping him from moving and forcing him to stay put. Harry growls struggling against the ropes, only Professor Quirrell's question breaks through to quiet him, "how does this mirror work?"

Professor Quirrell taps his chin with a long tapered finger, "I see me. I see my Lord. I see me giving my Lord the Stone, yet it doesn't tell me how to get the Stone."

Harry realizes what mirror Professor Quirrell is staring at; it can only be the Mirror of Erised. Relief washes over Harry immediately and his mind ticks with ideas and plans on how to out maneuver Professor Quirrell. Harry's best chance is to somehow squirm his way closer to the mirror. If he can look at it, perhaps he can see how to get it. After all, Harry's deepest desire at the moment is to get that stone before Professor Quirrell does.

In order to keep Professor Quirrell off balance and unsuspecting, Harry tries talking and annoying him again, careful not to over do the annoying bit. "Professor Quirrell, I thought Professor Snape hated me. So you've been the mastermind behind this?"

Professor Quirrell smirks at Harry, forcing the boy to stand still. "Oh, don't mistake my presence here as any indication that Professor Snape doesn't hate you. The man loathes your very existence."

Without realizing it had happened, a small glimmer of hope had risen in Harry when he saw Professor Quirrell searching for the Philosopher's Stone. He had thought that perhaps Professor Snape didn't truly hate Harry. That hope is dashed, squashed and brutally trampled on by Professor Quirrell's last words. Harry fights back the pain of disappointment, schooling his emotions in order to survive this encounter.

Turning his attention back to the mirror, Professor Quirrell starts to circle around it. "Leave it to Dumbledore to make this more difficult than it needs to be." Still tapping his chin with his index finger, Professor Quirrell begins humming, "Hmmm…"

More determined than ever, Harry squirms his way towards the mirror to properly position himself. "You're no match for the Headmaster. You're in over your head. You were overheard whimpering and crying, you're weak."

Professor Quirrell grows very still, his gaze is icy and harsh. Harry is forced to be still as well, his mask of indifference is securely in place. "You have no idea, no idea at all. The pain, the suffering for failure because failure is not acceptable, never acceptable. My master, my Lord, he is always with me, always." Shuddering Professor Quirrell turns to the mirror again.

One hand pressed to his lips, the other wrapped around his middle, Professor Quirrell does not pose the picture of self-confidence. "Master… how, how do I do this?" Professor Quirrell steps closer and taps the glass. A flash of white pain sears into Harry's scar, causing Harry to lose his balance and fall over with a groan. "Do I break it? Is that the key? Tell me, please!"

"Fool…" Harry's eyes squeeze tightly, the pain makes him feel ill as it rips through him. Gritting his teeth, Harry tries to look around them for the owner of this third voice. The sound is low, gravelly, crackling and hissing. "Use the boy…"

Professor Quirrell whips around and points at Harry. "Boy, come here." With a dismissive wave of his hand, the ropes fall away immediately as if they had never existed. Harry looks at his body for a moment in small wonder.

Rubbing his forehead when the pain eases, Harry stumbles to put his feet under him again. In sheer desperation, Harry tries again to distract Professor Quirrell. "The bludger-"

Professor Quirrell snarls at him. "I did that. I want you dead. Or I did, now I want you to tell me how to get that Stone!" The wild look in Professor Quirrell's eyes causes Harry to pause. The professor is pushed almost to the limit now, Harry needs to tread lightly.

With his head held high, Harry approaches the mirror and slowly lifts his gaze remembering what he wants most, what he desires. His face remains composed, his reflection on the other hand is giddy and waving. Professor Quirrell is directly behind him, invading Harry's personal space. Harry recoils at the odd, unpleasant odor emanating from Professor Quirrell's turban. "What do you see?"

Harry starts with the truth. "I see me."

Professor Quirrell circles around Harry prompting him to continue. "And?"

Concentrating on what he wants, Harry's mind pleads with the mirror. His giddy reflection winks at him, stuffs his hand in his pocket before pulling his hand back out to show the Philosopher's Stone lying in his palm. Reflection Harry puts his hand with the Philosopher's Stone back in his pocket at which time Harry feels the weight of it as it settle into his pocket. Remaining as serene as possible Harry lies, "I'm standing with Professor Dumbledore. He's shaking my hand, congratulating me on a job well done. I've been made head boy, I've made quidditch captain, I-"

Snarling Professor Quirrell pulls him out of the way causing Harry to stumble backwards. "Ignorant boy, that isn't what I need, that isn't what you need to see! The Stone… I must have the stone."

His long tapered fingers resume tapping his chin and that is Harry's cue to make his escape. The pain in his scar is back, not as all consuming as earlier, but painful all the same. Harry backs as quietly as possible, each step feels impossibly loud. The odd creepy cackling voice is what stops Harry cold in his tracks. "Let me talk to the boy."  
"Master, is that wise? You're not strong enough, you-"

"I said, let me talk to him!" The hissing is louder causing Professor Quirrell to wince along with Harry.

The stinging in Harry's forehead flares blindingly before dulling, leaving the boy panting. Harry rubs idly at his forehead while Professor Quirrell does an odd thing. Professor Quirrell takes off his turban. Harry looks on in horror at the odd growth on the back of Professor Quirrell's head reflecting in the mirror, staring at him, snarling at him. Harry stifles a scream and takes a frightened step back when Professor Quirrell turns around. The growth is a face, but not just any face, it is the face of evil with red eyes, slits for nose and skin almost sheer as it stretches and struggles against its confines.

"Harry Potter..." Professor Quirrell takes a step back so the face can move closer. Harry trembles stepping away. The pain in his scar flashes again, Harry cries out. The face hisses at Harry, angry and snarling, "Do you see what I've become? Do you see what I've been made to do to survive? Living off my followers. A shadow, a vapor, no form of my own, but that too will pass. Unicorn blood sustains me for now, that Stone you hold," Harry winces as another flash of white pain lances his forehead. "The Elixir of Life, it will give me the body I need."

Harry scrambles backwards away from Professor Quirrell and that hideous face, "You're... you're Voldemort!"

"Yessssssss..." Voldemort's face stretches forward again as if willing itself out of Professor Quirrell. Harry cries out at the white pain. "Now give me the Stone. Save yourself as your parents refused to do."

Shaking his head, Harry refuses him. "No."

"Don't be a fool, boy. Your parents died screaming and begging for their very lives. Is that what you want? To scream in agony, begging for mercy. If you join me, you can avoid their fate." Voldemort snarls at Harry, his red eyes hold on to Harry's green refusing to allow the boy to look away.

Reaching deep within him, Harry finds his resolve and stands straight ignoring the fear gripping his heart. "Never! I will never join you."

The very face of evil smiled at Harry causing a shiver to run down his spine. "I killed your father first. He fought bravely, foolish, but brave." Harry winces and tries to look away but the red eyes won't let him. "Your mother didn't have to die. She died protecting you. Now give me the Stone, so her death was not in vain!"

"NO!" Harry cries out in pain, in frustration, in fear and for the parents that he never knew. Tearing his eyes away at last, Harry scrambles for the fiery exit hoping the potion is still working and he doesn't die thereby giving the Philosopher's Stone to Professor Quirrell and Voldemort.**  
**


	14. Ending First Year

**Ending First Year**

His eyes refuse to open. His body is wracked with pain. It isn't a dream then. A dream doesn't hurt like this. A dream only hurts emotionally and this is more, much more than just in his mind. Is he dead? Do you feel pain when you're dead?

Harry tries to move, but pain shoots through him from head to toe coaxing a low groan from his parched throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry's eyes struggle to open. Everything is a blur, but that isn't so unusual. He reaches for his glasses, wincing as his arm reaches outwards. Harry can see an outline of a body, a person, tall with long hair, long white hair and twinkling eyes, blue twinkling eyes. Not that Harry can see his eyes without glasses on, but Harry knows they're there, Harry knows they're twinkling and blue, just as Harry knows who the man standing over him is. Harry's throat is scratchy causing his voice to sound hoarse and foreign. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore."

Professor Dumbledore's grin widens. "Hello, Harry."

Harry manages to put his glasses on and gives a tired grin to the man standing over him. Wincing, Harry tries sitting up on his own, without much luck. Professor Dumbledore helps him, adding a pillow behind his back. Carefully Harry moves his head to see if there is any water nearby. Thankfully Professor Dumbledore helps him again, pouring water into a glass and holding it to Harry's lips so he can sip carefully. Another tired smile and a small nod are about all Harry can manage for the time being. The more awake Harry feels, the stronger he feels even if he is still quite sore. "Do I have you to thank for saving me?"

"I was there to bring you out, if that is what you're referring to." Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes do that twinkling thing again and Harry smirks.

"I suppose so. Thank you for bringing me out." Harry is lying in a hospital bed, in the hospital ward, wearing hospital nightclothes. Harry decides he isn't overly fond of the hospital ward even if Madam Pomfrey is an excellent healer.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner for you. You managed well enough on your own though, well done Harry." Professor Dumbledore has his hands folded before him standing at the edge of the bed. Harry wonders briefly why the man doesn't just sit down, but figures it would be rude to ask.

"Thank you. I had help, of course. I wouldn't have made it to the mirror without Zabini and Vaisey." Harry frowns as a thought strikes him. "Did they make it out okay?"

"Ah, yes they did. I met them on their way to the hospital ward." Professor Dumbledore raises his hand to fend off Harry's next question, "Mr. Zabini and Mr. Vaisey are both well. Mr. Vaisey was released just yesterday to return to Slytherin House."

Harry peers at Professor Dumbledore, "Then how did you know to come back?"

"Hedwig found me at the Ministry. Your friend Hermione sent a note saying you three had gone after the Stone." Professor Dumbledore waits for this bit of information to sink in and smiles when the panic sets into Harry's face. "The Stone has been destroyed."

Harry settles back again as another thought passes his mind. "And Nicolas Flamel? What will he do? Without the Elixir of Life he and his wife will die."

"So you figured that part out as well, I'm impressed." Professor Dumbledore chuckles. "Nicolas has enough elixir to set his affairs and then, yes, they will die. They have had a long life, I think it was a bit of a relief for them both."

"I had loads of help figuring all this out. Vaisey, Zabini and Granger were with me figuring things out as we went along." Harry smiled, thinking of his friends. "I wouldn't have gotten as far as I had without them."

"Friends are a treasure." Professor Dumbledore smiles, his eyes dance once again. "Now are there other questions?"

"I know You-Know-Who will find another way to come back." Professor Dumbledore hums without further comment, neither denying or agreeing with the boy's view. Harry closes his eyes. "You know, that whole _thing_ was weird." Harry shudders. "Professor Quirrell and Voldemort stuck together that way. That was disgusting. Staring at those red eyes, I couldn't look away, they just held me there. Voldemort said my mother didn't have to die. I guess she felt she did but I don't know. And what was all that touching mess?" Harry looks at his hands in confusion. "Professor Quirrell had boils on his skin it was as if my skin was acid to him. So very weird."

Professor Dumbledore goes into a long explanation about his mother's love, Harry's ability to love, Voldemort's inability to love and that is about the time when Harry's mind checks out. Nodding when he thinks it is necessary, Harry's mind is wondering where Blaise, Jason and Hermione are. Harry notices Professor Dumbledore has stopped talking and looks at him expectantly. Harry sighs softly. "May I ask you something a bit more personal?"

"Your parents' death isn't personal?" Professor Dumbledore's eyebrow rises in surprise.

"I guess." Harry shrugs a shoulder not knowing how to respond to the man's question. "It's about Professor Snape."

"I see." Professor Dumbledore waits for Harry to continue.

"He hates me." Harry closes his eyes, not sure why saying that sentence causes him so much pain. Harry does know, or thinks he does but admitting it, even to himself, is just too much right now. Harry can't seem to raise his eyes and look at Professor Dumbledore, shame coloring his cheeks. "I don't know why. I try to be the student he expects and it's just not good enough."

"Professor Snape hated your father. They went to school together and they were rivals." Professor Dumbledore is carefully wording his response. Harry can tell, but any explanation will do. For now. Harry finally looks at Professor Dumbledore and gives him a small nod to show he understands. A small grin plays on Professor Dumbledore's lips, the twinkle in his eyes dance. "Once while still in school together, your father saved his life. I'm not sure Professor Snape forgave him for that. He went through great pains to ensure you lived. I believe it was his way to pay your father back. Now that you've survived, Professor Snape can go back to hating your father without guilt."

Harry reflects on this for a moment, a small grin of relief tugs at him. Harry's heart refills with his respect for Professor Snape chasing off that feeling of emptiness that threatened to consume him. "Professor Snape is a true Slytherin. I can see why he'd feel that way. Thank you, Professor."

Voices carry from just outside, Professor Dumbledore looks over and chuckles softly. "You have more visitors. I'll leave you to them."

"Thanks again, Professor." Harry adjusts his pajamas feeling underdressed for company. Harry can hear more chattering but not what is being said. After what seems a long time, which could have very well been only a minute, three heads pop around the partition.

"Harry!" Hermione beams happily and launches towards him, hugging him tightly. Harry fights back the wince of pain, his eyes squeezing tightly. His strained mask of indifference doesn't fool Jason or Blaise.

"Granger, you're killing him." Jason taps Hermione on the shoulder. She squeaks in surprise, apologizing a few times before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, much like Fred did when Harry was last in the hospital along side George. "You look like death."

Smirking, Harry shakes his head. "Thanks?"

"Word is, you met up with Professor Quirrell and You-Know-Who." Blaise's lip curls in disgust while Jason snatches up a chocolate frog from Harry's side table and bites the head off. Harry goes into the story of what happened with the mirror, the Philosopher's Stone, Professor Quirrell and Voldemort. The slightly sadistic side of Harry enjoys giving details such as the stench of the turban to see Blaise blanche; the boils on Professor Quirrell's skin to watch Hermione squirm; the searing white pain blazing through his scar to watch Jason wince. Blaise huffs, "I'm glad I didn't have to witness that. Professor Dumbledore says you're lucky to have survived."

"Thanks to all of you, I did." Harry grins at Hermione, "You took a big risk sneaking off to the owlery. Thank you, Granger."

Hermione blushes and drops her gaze, giving a small one shoulder shrug. "We all had our part to do, I almost didn't realize mine until it was almost too late."

* * *

Harry was in the hospital wing for another day before Madam Pomfrey agreed to allow him to leave. Harry's school uniform was clean and ready for him and he changed his clothes gratefully. School is almost over, the final feast is tonight. "Harry, you have a visitor."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Harry walks out from behind the divider to see the giant of a man standing hunched over in order to fit in the room.

Hagrid has a difficult time looking at Harry. His eyes are red-rimmed from crying, his nose is rosey from many swipes with his sleeve and if the hiccups are any indication, Hagrid had been crying quite recently. "Hello, Hagrid. It was kind of you to come see me."

His breath hitches as Hagrid tries to speak. "It's all m' fault. I shouldna tol' tha' evil git aboot Fluffy. I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Walk with me, Hagrid? I've been released and I'd really like a shower before the feast tonight." Harry smiles up at his friend who simply nods and scurries out of the room and into the hall to await Harry. "Hagrid, you are my friend. It isn't your fault. Professor Quirrell would have found a way around Fluffy with or without your help. Besides, you did me a favor by telling him." Hagrid looks at Harry with doubts and Harry chuckles softly. "If you hadn't told him, I wouldn't have known to stop him."

"Tha's just it, Harry. Ya shouldna been there ta begin wit'. Ya coulda died!" Hagrid pulls out a very large handkerchief that is grayish instead of white, swiping at his face as new tears fall. The giant man continues to blubber on and Harry walks quietly beside him.

"Look on the bright side if you can. We saved the stone. You helped me and for that I'm grateful." They arrived at the Entrance Hall and Harry stopped, deciding now would be a good time to part ways with the giant. Harry has enough troubles, he'd rather avoid being seen in Hagrid's company with the big oaf bawling as he is.

"I got somethin' fer ya." Hagrid digs in his pocket and Harry takes a calming breath wondering if whatever it is the man has, he wants any part of it.

Harry politely nods with an expectant grin. "Very kind of you, Hagrid."

"Ah, it aint much, bu' I hope ya like it." Hagrid pulls from his pocket something shaped much like a book.

Taking the gift from Hagrid turns it over and notes that it is a book with soft leather binding. Opening the book Harry gasps at the pages. Each page has at least one picture of his parents, laughing and hugging, waving and young. There are a couple of photographs of his parents holding a baby Harry. "How..."

"I sent owls out ta friend of yer parents, askin' if they had some ta spare. I knew ya didn't have any fer yerself. D'yeh like it?" Hagrid turns his head and grins down at the smiling couple.

"It's perfect, Hagrid. I couldn't have asked for a better gift. Thank you." Harry smiles sincerely at Hagrid. Harry's fingers gently brushed along a photograph of his mother as she brushed her hair over her ear smiling shyly up at the camera. She bit her lip and laughed sweetly. "I have her eyes."

* * *

Jason and Blaise wait for Harry to get ready and the three boys enter the Great Hall together. Harry's stomach recoils when he sees the banners waving proudly above the tables, showing Gryffindor pride with the lion surrounded in maroon and gold. The whole room immediately goes quiet as all heads turn to stare at them. "Remember, you're a hero to the other tables for losing those points."

"Not helping, Zabini." Harry smirks at Blaise. "And I didn't lose them all on my own, thank you very much."

"Hey, leave me out of this." Jason hisses.

"Okay, Slytherins, it's time for dinner." Blaise leads the other two towards the Slytherin table. Each of the three boys keep their faces impassive, their eyes focused on their destination and ignore all they pass as if they don't matter.

Hermione smiles knowingly at them and Harry gives her a sly wink before the three turn to the last table to take their seats. Sitting at the end, the three fold their hands on the table and wait quietly. Thankfully Professor Dumbledore enters soon afterwards and Harry eyes the head table.

"Another year has gone by and what a year it was!" Professor Dumbledore grins in amusement. "It is time to present the House cup. The score at this time is as follows: Slytherin, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Gryffindor, four hundred and seventy-two."

The Great Hall erupts with hooting, hollering and applause. Gryffindor house is understandably joyful, some standing while cheering, others beating the table, many pointing at the three boys sitting stoically at the Slytherin table. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables are cheering for Gryffindor's good fortune.

Harry looks down at his hands, clenched together, nails biting into flesh. He can feel all Slytherin eyes burning them with anger and disappointment. None are more angry or disappointed than he feels inside, Harry's pretty sure about that.

"Yes, well done Gryffindor." Professor Dumbledore isn't done, his patient smile and twinkling eyes watch the celebration for a while until he's ready to continue. "However, due to recent events, it is my pleasure to award a few last minute points."

This announcement gets everyone's attention, including the staff and all eyes are now on Professor Dumbledore. "First to Miss Hermione Granger..."

Harry watches Hermione as she blushes deeply, a few fellow housemates congratulate her. "For quick thinking and ensuring key staff knew about upcoming dangers to fellow students. I award Ravenclaw House ten points."

"Second to Mr. Jason Vaisey..." Jason's neck creaks as his head whips towards Professor Dumbledore. "For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years. I award Slytherin House fifty points."

The Slytherin table is suddenly quite interested in the festivities of the evening for the first time tonight. The whole Hall is abuzz, some angry, others concerned and a few hopeful. "Third to Mr. Blaise Zabini..."

Blaise simply continues to watch Professor Dumbledore with the same blank stare refusing to show any emotion. "For the use of brilliant logic in the face of fire, I award Slytherin House fifty points."

For the first time since entering the Great Hall, Blaise's face twitches as his eyebrow moves at what Professor Dumbledore has to say. The Hall is growing louder as Professor Dumbledore continues, "Third to Mr. Harry Potter..."

Professor Dumbledore looks at the boys at this point and all three are looking up at him, curiosity plainly written on their upturned faces. At the mention of Harry's name, the Hall goes eerily quiet. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Slytherin House sixty points."

Without forethought, Harry looks at Professor Snape. Professor Snape simply raises an eyebrow at Harry to which he gives him a small nod in return, much to Professor Snape's amusement. Slytherin House is now tied with Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall huffs quietly as Professor Snape smirks openly at her. It is more than Harry could hope for after losing so many points for them. Blaise's composure slips slightly as he smirks at Harry. "Being tied is better than being last."

"Indeed." Harry agrees feeling only slightly disappointed.

Professor Dumbledore waits for a few more minutes before calming the room with a raised hand. "There are all types of courage. While it takes bravery to stand against enemies, it shows true character to stand up to your friends, house mates and for what is right. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Draco Malfoy."

Jason, Blaise and Harry lose all composure at this point as they laugh and applaud Draco's embarrassment. Granted Draco sneers at everyone and is haughty in his acceptance of the winning points, but the three boys know how Blaise cursed him and that is worth more than the cup in their eyes.

"Which means," Professor Dumbledore smiles patiently at the groans and whines of three houses, "For the seventh year in a row, Slytherin House has won the house cup." With a clap of Professor Dumbledore's hands the proud lion is replaced with the cunning snake, the maroon turns green and the gold becomes silver as the hangings above the tables change from Gryffindor into Slytherin. Slytherin House erupts with cheers and only one Ravenclaw beams happily for her friends.

Professor McGonagall politely shakes Professor Snape's hand in a show of good will, her tight lipped smile didn't fool Harry. In a moment of weakness, Harry leans over to Blaise in order to whisper, "I believe Professor McGonagall will require a volunteer to cheer her up after her House's loss."

Groaning Blaise shoots Harry a hateful look ruined only by the small smirk that Blaise can't seem to hide. "You'll pay for that, Potter."

* * *

Pushing his glasses back up on his nose, Harry follows Blaise and Jason off the train. Grabbing the push trolley loaded with his trunk, Hedwig's cage and all of his belongings, Harry follows Blaise for the last time this school year. Emerging through the portal leading out of Platform 9 ¾, Harry spots Mrs. Weasley and her daughter. "Mrs. Weasley, I'm glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to thank you for the sweater and fudge. It was very kind of you to think of me."

"Nonsense, it was my pleasure, dear boy." Mrs. Weasley pulls Harry into a hug much to his dismay. He awkwardly hugs back and steps aside quickly.

"Have a lovely summer." Harry makes his way towards Blaise and Jason. Jason smirks at him and Harry rolls his eyes, "Not a word, Vaisey. The woman makes excellent fudge."

"Uh huh…" Jason chuckles at Harry's expense.

Blaise is standing beside a tall, slender shapely Italian woman with milk chocolate smooth skin, amber eyes and long chestnut locks swept up in front allowing the length to flow in soft curls down her back. With a sincere smile on her red painted lips, the woman gently brushes Blaise's cheek with manicured fingers. Blaise, in a rare moment of unguarded distraction, loses his usual blasé appearance and smiles back, "I'd like to introduce a new friend."

"Of course, I'd enjoy meeting your little friend." Her voice is accented and light as if she's singing her words rather than speaking them.

Harry quickly straightens his clothes, effectively wiping the light sheen of sweat from his palm. Blaise politely does the introductions. "Mother, this is Harry Potter. Potter, this is my mother, Mrs. Zabini."

Mrs. Zabini reaches out and brushes back Harry's bangs glancing at his scar before raising his chin to allow him to meet her gaze, her smile eases his nerves. "You have lovely eyes, Mr. Potter. It's a shame they are hidden behind glasses. You might consider having your eyes fixed when you're old enough."

"Thank you, Mrs. Zabini. I'll keep that in mind." Harry blushes and fights the urge to fidget and shift his weight.

Jason gives a polite nod to Mrs. Zabini as soon as her attention shifts, "A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Zabini. You're a vision of beauty as always."

"Always the charmer, Mr. Vaisey," Mrs. Zabini laughs softly, the sound is lovely as it floats in the air stopping men in their tracks just to glance her way. "How is your father?"

The word 'married' pops up as a most reasonable answer, yet Jason is too polite. "He is well, I'm sure. He should be coming around a corner any moment."

Blaise peers at Harry. "You still owe me. I won't let you forget."

Laughing Harry nods, "I remember. Maybe this summer?"

"What's this summer?" Jason looks from one friend to the other.

"Shopping." Harry grimaces. "Diagon Alley, I presume. I'd have to stop at Gringotts in order to afford anything this one has in mind." Motioning with his head towards Blaise, before Harry extends the invitation to Jason. "Maybe you can come, too. Think your parents would allow it?"

"Sure, I'd have to buy next year's supplies after all." Jason's father arrives with a young girl, the spitting image of Jason in female form. "Mini-jay!" Jason hugs his sister and introductions begin again. Harry is introduced to Jason's father, Mr. Vaisey, and younger sister, Alia. "When you go with Al to buy her school supplies, would it be okay for me to do some shopping with Zabini and Potter?"

Mr. Vaisey looks at Mrs. Zabini, who gives him a small nod of agreement, before responding. "I'm sure we can work out the details later, but I see no problem with it."

"So we're set?" Harry's excitement is growing. This summer may not be so bad after all.

"You can bet on it." Blaise's amusement turns into a sneer at the fat muggle huffing at Harry and interrupting the boys.

"It's about time, boy." Harry sighs and ignores his rude uncle.

"Mrs. Zabini, Mr. Vaisey, I apologize for the interruption. May I introduce my legal guardian, Vernon Dursley." Harry's gaze hardens as he stares at the bloated pink man, his tone is clipped and precise. "Uncle Vernon, this is Mrs. Zabini and Mr. Vaisey."

Uncle Vernon bristles at Harry's obvious snub before turning his sneer at Mrs. Zabini. When their eyes meet, Uncle Vernon blubbers incoherently. Mrs. Zabini is not impressed, yet is mildly amused and lies so elegantly that it comes across sincerely. "Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dursley."

"I..." Uncle Vernon blinks, snapping his mouth closed with an audible click. Uncle Vernon stands a bit taller, pulling his weight in with considerable effort. "The pleasure is mine, dear lady."

Blaise shoots a raised eyebrow at Harry who only shrugs back. "See you later, Potter."

* * *

**AN**: Year 1 is complete. Year 2 will begin soon. I've decided to combine two years to keep the length of the story manageable.


	15. Summertime

**AN:** All English / Italian translations are straight from Google Translate.

* * *

**Summertime**

The room is stifling hot and Harry lies as still as possible to preserve his energy. What should have been a decent summer is unbearably worse than any previous years. It started out as a normal summer: chores, gardening and cooking. Then came his birthday, but Harry hadn't expected much, actually didn't expect anything at all. He much prefers nothing at all to what he got. What did he get? Just the worst birthday ever. Harry closes his eyes. It had been by far the worse yet. Hopefully years to come will be better. The first eleven years Harry's birthdays had been forgotten, overlooked and treated like any other day. Much as he hoped this year's birthday would be.

A house elf, Dobby, with his big floppy ears, round large green eyes, long pointed nose and small body wrapped in a pillowcase of sorts, made sure Harry's twelfth birthday was a disaster beyond mere words. Dobby even admitted to stealing his mail from his friends.

Dobby claimed he was protecting him. Harry isn't so sure about that. Thanks to Dobby's antics, Harry got a warning from the Ministry, Uncle Vernon flipping out, locking Harry in his room, adding bars on the window, only letting the boy out twice a day to go to the loo and the cat flap at the bedroom door in order to shove cold soup or hard bread and occasional water, doesn't sound like helping to Harry. What little Harry gets he shares with Hedwig, his beautiful snow owl.

Harry is starving. Harry wants his letters. Harry wants his letters more than he wants food. His stomach grumbles. Okay, Harry wants his letters as much as he wants food. His stomach growls. Right, Harry wants food more than he wants the letters and he really wants those letters. Harry opens an eye to peek down at his stomach. This time it apparently agrees with his thought.

At least Harry knows someone wrote him, they were thinking of him. Harry had been rather depressed when he thought they forgot about him. He tries hard not to think of food.

Sweltering in the heat of his room wishing he could at the very least open the window, Harry can hear commotion somewhere downstairs. The doorbell rang out a few minutes ago and now there is talking but it doesn't concern Harry. He's just focusing on a random spot on the ceiling, it is much more interesting than anyone wanting to visit the Dursleys.

A random noise catches Harry's attention. Blinking Harry focuses his eyes at his bedroom door. That random noise he heard isn't so random. The sound is more like footsteps, from what he can tell those footsteps are heading upstairs. Harry sighs and closes his eyes. The footsteps belong to one of Dudley's friends most likely. Good thing Harry is locked away in his room or he'd be beaten and tortured instead of starving to death. Starving is much more desirable. Maybe. Harry stares at his stomach as it growls at him again.

"Mother?" A boy's voice sounds as if he's standing near Harry's door causing Harry to jump in his skin. While the voice sounds familiar, it doesn't sound like his cousin. Harry sits up suddenly very interested in what is going on outside his door.

Another voice responds only not nearly as loud, female and foreign. Harry moves to the door, pressing his ear to the wood, hoping to overhear something interesting. The second voice is distant just barely carrying up the stairs to Harry. "Che cosa è, ragazzo mio?" (What is it, my boy?)

"La porta è chiusa." The familiar voice is right outside Harry's door. His voice is so close it startles Harry before he remembers whoever is speaking can't see him through the door. (The door is locked.)

Harry presses his ear to the door again and that lilting, singsong voice responds. "Non mi interessa, romperlo se è necessario." (I don't care, break it if you must.)

"Sì, Mamma." Harry jumps when the person on the other side of the door knocks. "Potter, who has the bloody keys to these locks?"

"Zabini?" Harry stares startled at the door.

"Know many Italians, do you?" Blaise chuckles and starts unlocking the row of locks. "Two of these locks requires a key. Any ideas?"

"Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia... um, Blaise, what did you do with them?" Harry is quickly throwing on clean clothes and a pair of trainers. Absently combing fingers through his hair in order to make himself more presentable.

"Your tubby uncle is gawking at my mother, your aunt is in the kitchen making tea, not that Mother would drink anything made in that kitchen." Harry can hear Blaise's sneer of disgust and rolls his eyes.

"Hey!" Harry groans when he hears Dudley's voice, pressing his forehead to the wood wishing with all he has that Dudley wouldn't cause a scene. "What are you doing? My father won't like you letting the freak out."

"Why don't you waddle to your father and get the key to these locks. We're taking Potter with us." Dudley growls at something and Harry starts to panic. "Run along, Piggy. Unless you want a snout to go along with the tail Hagrid gave you last year. I'm sure Mother would be more than willing to accommodate you."

"What? Nooooo!" Stomping noises echo through the house and Harry can't help but chuckle.

"Smooth, Zabini." Harry walks over to Hedwig's cage as she flutters her wings with a hope of escape.

"Once you're out of there, I will hear the story of how you offended these muggles to the point of being locked away like a common criminal. Your manners aren't _that_ bad." Laughing Harry can hear Blaise's grin in his tone. This is the most relaxed Harry's felt while cooped up in his small room. At least it is this room he is locked in and not the cupboard under the stairs.

"Zabini," Harry's ears perk when he hears Jason's voice. "Dad sent me in to see what's taking so long and your mom handed me these keys for you. What's with the locks?"

"Vaisey, make yourself useful and unlock these last two padlocks." Speaking of locks, all of Harry's magical items are locked in the cupboard under the stairs. "Potter is in there."

"Most muggles that are familiar with the wizarding world are a bit jumpy around magic, but this is a bit paranoid." The last two locks are released and the door is opened. "You look like hell, Potter."

"Thanks, I feel like it. So am I getting busted out for the summer or the day?" Harry looks from one to the other.

Jason stares at the locks on the door and makes a decision. "Um, summer. Once Dad hears about these locks, no way is he gonna send you back to this place."

Harry wastes no time in grabbing Hedwig's cage, "My stuff is locked in my um... in the cupboard under the stairs."

Three young wizards make their way down the stairs, one holding a ring of keys, one holding a birdcage with an eager snow owl and one so relieved he's nearly faint. Harry takes the stairs slowly still rather unsure what to expect. Yet it is just as Blaise said, Uncle Vernon is ogling Mrs. Zabini practically drooling on himself and Aunt Petunia is just coming out of the kitchen with a tray for tea.

Blaise sets Hedwig's cage down near the front door and walks down the short hallway following Justin. The two busy themselves with unlocking the cupboard. "Greetings, Mrs. Zabini. It's rather kind of you to come get me like this."

Mrs. Zabini smiles down at Harry before brushing his hair out of his eyes. "My Blaise was concerned when he hadn't heard from you, Mr. Potter. When Mr. Vaisey admitted to not having heard back from you either, it was decided we would come fetch you. Your friends are rather persuasive."

Harry loves Mrs. Zabini's accent, the way her R's roll when she called Harry 'Mr. Potter' and just the singsong affect her voice seems to have without effort. At that time, Harry's stomach growled rather persistently, annoyed with being ignored yet again. Clutching his middle, Harry blushes deeply horrified by the sound his body made of their own accord. "I am so sorry."

Cupping Harry's chin Mrs. Zabini chuckles. "We will feed you soon, Mr. Potter."

Blaise and Jason make for the door with Harry's trunk and suitcase. Jason tosses the keys at Dudley who jumps in surprise, flicking the keys up in the air and over his head as he tries to catch them inadvertently falling backwards with a resounding thud.

"Duddykins!" Aunt Petunia had been pouring a cup of tea. The teapot and cup clatter back onto the tray before Aunt Petunia scurries over to her son.

"Boys, take Mr. Potter's things to Mrs. Vaisey's car." Mrs. Zabini's eyes flash with an unsaid warning and with a mere mumble of a 'yes'm', 'okay' and a 'yes, Mother' they are gone.

Harry looks back wondering what is happening inside the house, wondering if he really wants to know. With a shake of his head, Harry believes things like this are probably better if he doesn't think too hard on it. With a friendly wave and a kind smile, Jason's father is standing at the back of his wife's Cavalier with the boot open waiting for the boys. "Glad you can join us, Mr. Potter."

With his face as red as a tomato, Harry is embarrassed beyond words and has a hard time meeting Mr. Vaisey's eyes. Harry is usually such a private person and wonders just what these people must think of him and what has been happening in this little suburb of Surrey that the Dursleys call home. "Thank you, Mr. Vaisey."

Mr. Vaisey's casual smile eases Harry's troubled mind, until a shadow of some different emotion that Harry can't put his finger on crosses Mr. Vaisey's features, but only for a moment. Harry turns and sees Mrs. Figg standing at the edge of the Dursley property watching quietly, fidgeting with a handbag clutched tightly to her body. Her wild gray stringy hair flits about under her hat, perched on her head courtesy of the soft breeze. "Leaving so soon, Harry?"

"Hello, Mrs. Figg." Harry gives Mr. Vaisey a small grin before stepping to the sidewalk to speak with her. "I will be staying with friends for the rest of the summer and returning to school when term starts. You'll be okay, won't you?"

The grizzled older woman smiles up at the boy and pats Harry's arm gently. "Of course, dear boy. Just be sure to dress warmly on the cold nights." And just like that the odd woman turns and walks back towards her home.

Harry chuckles softly and walks back to Mr. Vaisey, Blaise and Jason. "Who was that?" Jason watches the old woman until she turns a corner and disappears from sight.

"Just a neighbor. She used to babysit me when I was younger. Harmless crazy cat lady type." Harry crawls into the back seat, following Blaise and Jason.

Items loaded, people seated, boys in the backseat, Mrs. Zabini in the passenger, Mr. Vaisey driving. Mr. Vaisey eases away from the curb and around the corner trying not to smirk at Mrs. Zabini's discomfort. "See you in Diagon Alley?"

Mrs. Zabini's gaze meets Mr. Vaisey's and she nods before a distinct crack is heard. Mrs. Zabini apparates out of the vehicle, leaving the others to travel by car. Blaise shrugs, "Mother hates muggle transportation, makes her a bit uneasy."

Harry just grins and sits back comfortably. He's used to things in the muggle world, but it doesn't mean muggle's ways are better. The chatter is kept light, Jason explains how his muggle mother uses the family car to travel to and from work and Mr. Vaisey makes light of acting 'normal' for her family's sake. The trip to the Leaky Cauldron in downtown London is pleasant all the way up until Blaise asks why Harry was locked in his bedroom.

Harry sighs and looks out the window. He can feel eyes watching him before he gathers the words to speak. Harry tells about the encounter with Dobby. Dobby's antics, the letter from the Ministry for Magic and Uncle Vernon's reaction. Harry doesn't admit to how little food he's been given since this incident but the pale skin and hollowing of Harry's cheeks, dark circles under his eyes and the obvious growls from his stomach are sure indicators.

The boys exit the car and enter the Leaky Cauldron, the anxiety immediately easing out of Harry's stiff shoulders. Mrs. Zabini motions the boys over to a table, a small pleasant smile on her face. She's seated with another woman and Alia, Jason's little sister. Introductions begin once again as Harry meets Mrs. Vaisey.

Tom brings a tray laden with a stew, fresh bread and a round of butterbeer. Harry almost whimpers at the sight of the food and forces himself to eat slowly, savoring each mouthful. Mr. Vaisey takes a seat at the table, grabbing a bowl and spoon. "I let your owl out of her cage, Harry. She looked like she was ready for a bit of hunting fun."

"Thank you, Mr. Vaisey." Harry feels his face redden again. He had been so excited to be freed from the Dursley's home, Harry didn't even think of Hedwig's needs. "I'm sure Hedwig will be flying for hours. She's been cooped up for months."

"Blaise says you two will need to do a bit of shopping." The statement sounds a touch like a question as Mrs. Zabini watches Harry over her tea cup, waiting for his response.

Harry's spoon slowly lowers as he chuckles, "Yes, Mrs. Zabini. If it isn't too much trouble, I will need to visit Gringotts for funds first, otherwise it will be a short shopping trip."

Blaise allows a small smirk. "We can't have that."

"What are you hoping to buy during this excursion?" Mrs. Vaisey asks.

Blushing deeply, Harry sits up schooling his reaction, "Something I owe Blaise and more importantly clothing for me. Apparently hand-me downs from my cousin Dudley aren't good enough for a _proper_ Slytherin." Harry glances at Blaise with an amused smirk before another thought strikes him, "Oh, and I'd love a broom."


	16. Diagon Alley

**AN:** From the wiki page: Ms. Zabini (mother of Blaise Zabini)  
It is unknown if Zabini was her maiden name, one of her married names, or only the surname of her son.  
Since a first name is never given for Blaise's mom, I have opted to give her one for story purposes.

* * *

**Diagon Alley**

Their first trip to Diagon Alley went smoothly, much better than Harry had expected. Harry didn't object to most of the clothes Blaise decided Harry needed. Blaise was also rather gracious, only picking out a single outfit for himself rather than a whole new wardrobe that Harry offered at Halloween during their first year at Hogwarts. Harry still thinks Mrs. Zabini had something to do with that, for which he is eternally grateful.

The highlight of that shopping trip for Harry was buying his first broom. Harry actually purchased three brooms that day; one for Harry, two for the Weasley twins. Harry left explicit instructions with the shop owner to keep the buyer anonymous. It was Harry's way of quietly thanking the twins for damaging their brooms in order to save his life. Blaise and Jason both understood his reasoning but talked him down from buying the best brooms on the market. They were right of course; why give a competing House better equipment?

The first two weeks together, the boys stayed at the Zabini home. It isn't merely a home; it's a villa with a large yard, spacious interior with formal dining rooms, a grand ballroom, more bedrooms than Harry thought was necessary for a family of two, expansive balconies and two house elves to keep it all tidy. His first morning there, Harry woke up in a luxurious bed, with sunbeams dancing across the sheet. He decided it must be a dream. Two weeks later and Harry isn't convinced he has really woken up.

The next two weeks the boys will be staying at the Vaisey home. After being spoiled at the Zabini home, Jason was quick to warn Harry not to expect that kind of treatment at his house. Harry figures as long as he isn't being starved and locked into a cupboard daily, he is still much better off with the Vaisey family than at the Dursley house.

During their time at the Zabini home, their Hogwarts letters arrived so another shopping trip was quickly planned. They will need to shop for school supplies, with luck they will get to stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for a snack and Harry is in need of some owl treats for Hedwig from Eeylops. Mrs. Zabini said they would make a day of it so Harry sent word to Hermione and she would meet them in front of Gringotts.

They will take the floo to Diagon Alley, meeting Mr. Vaisey and Alia at the Leaky Cauldron. Using the floo system isn't what Harry expects and has decided he isn't very fond of this form of travel. Clothes dusty and ashy, glasses cracked, Harry lands on his behind much to the amusement of Blaise and Jason. "Not bad for a first time, could have gone much worse. My first time, I ended up on the wrong side of town."

Harry grins at Jason's attempt to make him feel better, mostly because it works. "Thanks."

Mrs. Zabini steps gracefully from the floo, not a speck of ash on her. Upon seeing Harry, she instantly casts various spells to straighten, clean and repair Harry's clothing and glasses. With a patient smile she brushes his hair from his eyes. "When are you going to let me get this cut, hmm? Your eyes, Mr. Potter, you should not hide them in this fringe."

"It isn't my eyes I'm hiding, Mrs. Zabini." Harry blushes as he tends to do when Mrs. Zabini fusses over him. It's a nice change having someone care about him rather than just yell.

"Hmm, I have a feeling there will come a day when your self-confidence will be strong enough and you won't care if anyone sees your scar." Mrs. Zabini ushers the boys out of the Leaky Cauldron through Diagon Alley towards Gringotts followed by Mr. Vaisey and Alia. Alia is carrying her new cauldron filled with a number of school items mindlessly chatting away about how much she loves her new purple quill and doesn't have a boring white one like everyone else.

Hermione and her parents are just stepping out of Gringotts and the adults look quite uncomfortable and a bit out of place. Hermione bounces down the steps waving at the boys, hugging Harry and Jason and smiling nervously at Blaise. "Harry, you look great! So much better than those big floppy shirts."

Blaise smirks openly, "I told you, Potter."

Harry decides to ignore them and smiles at Hermione's parents, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, how nice to meet you at last. I'm Harry Potter, Hermione's boyfriend."

"Harry!" Hermione's eyes widen, her cheeks bloom red and Mrs. Granger pales, clutching her chest. Mr. Granger sputters, momentarily unsure what to think of the brazen boy. Mrs. Zabini hides her amusement, turning to speak quietly with Mr. Vaisey.

"Sorry, Mrs. Granger that was a poor use of an inside joke. I'm not really Hermione's boyfriend. I never was. Hermione was my tutor in History of Magic and she is a dear friend. Unfortunately the rumors went around that we were dating." Harry notices the surprise on Blaise and Jason's face. Hermione glares at Harry as both her parents are waiting expectantly for further explanation from her.

"Well, if you remembered your manners to begin with you could have avoided this whole mess." Harry pauses for a beat while Hermione smacks his arm. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, if you'd be so kind as to ignore my earlier antics at your daughter's expense," Hermione smacks his arm again, "I'd like to introduce Mrs. Zabini, her son Blaise; Mr. Vaisey and his children, Jason and Alia."

Laughing Harry grabs Hermione's hand as she attempts to smack him a third time. "Okay, I'm gonna have one huge bruise. I'm done, I'm done!"

"Not funny, Harry." Hermione pulls her hand from his.

"Are you sure you're not dating? She sure acts like your girlfriend." Alia tilts her head staring at the bushy haired girl who simply gapes back, mouth opening and closing soundlessly a time or two much to Harry's delight.

Jason quickly pulls Alia back covering her mouth with his hand. "She's kidding. Really. Aren't you, Al?" He moves her head up and down forcibly. Alia tries to pry Jason's hand from her mouth while glaring balefully up at him. "See?"

Mr. Vaisey takes pity on the Grangers, engaging them in conversation leaving the kids to catch up on events. "You're going to pay for that one, Harry."

Harry rubs his bruised arm, "More than I already have? I think we need to break up, Hermione." Harry dodges Hermione's next punch while laughing.

"Not a word from you!" Hermione points at the smirking, yet silent, Alia.

"I dunno, Hermione. She's pretty clever. You're going to have a devil of a time keeping up with her." Jason plucks Alia's cauldron from her grasp and looks inside. "Really? Purple? I guess I shouldn't be surprised." Jason is flipping the quill in his hand before dropping it back in Alia's cauldron.

"Oh that's pretty, do they have other colors?" Hermione is looking in the cauldron as the two girls start discussing quill options.

"Ready to do some shopping? This list of books for your Defense class is ridiculous. I know Gilderoy Lockhart is popular, but seven of his books are mandatory this year? Ridiculous." Mr. Vaisey looks over the list, shaking his head.

"The man is a menace, all glittering toothy grin and no talent." Mrs. Zabini is obviously not impressed.

"I think he's rather brilliant." Hermione responds softly, ducking her head in embarrassment as the boys tease her.

Arriving at Flourish and Blotts, the idea of shopping is put on hold. The store is over crowded with women, all bogged down by arms full of books. The tittering excitement fills the air, giving Harry a bit of a headache. "Harry!"

Harry looks around and sees a red head waving at him. "Incoming Weasley brood."

Mrs. Weasley turns and spots Harry, grinning brightly. The twins, grateful for the brief respite from their mother's constant harping, head back towards Harry and his friends, as Ron pushes closer. "Hey, Jason."

"Weasleys." Jason chuckles softly. "You're missing one."

"Percy is off on his own shopping." Ron waves a dismissive hand.

Mrs. Zabini looks uneasy and calls out to her son, "Figlio, io aspetto fuori, lontano dalla spazzatura." (Son, I will wait outside, away from the trash.)

Without waiting for a response she steps out into the fresh air. "Is your mother alright?" Mr. Granger looks out the front door to the bookstore with concern.

"Mother doesn't care for…" Blaise pauses choosing a suitable word before settling on, "crowds."

Mrs. Weasley manages to grapple Harry in a warm, motherly hug, crushing him in the process. "Harry, it's good to see you're well."

Harry peels himself from her grip and chuckles softly, "Pleasure to see you as well, Mrs. Weasley."

"Harry? Who's Harry?" A distracted man with reddish blond, thinning hair appears from seemingly nowhere to stand beside Mrs. Weasley. "Ah, Gino, how is the family?"

Mr. Vaisey chats for a bit with the man who is apparently Mr. Weasley, introducing him to the Grangers and to Harry. Mr. Weasley peers at Harry, "Well, I'll be. Harry Potter. My sons mentioned you're in Hogwarts this year. Slytherin House, eh?"

Harry shifts his weight a bit uneasy under Mr. Weasley's scrutiny, "Yes, sir."

"Can it be?" A new voice chimes in and most heads turn towards the speaker as he bodily pulls Harry from their midst. Harry stumbles forward as the tall blond man with wavy hair, a charming smile and spectacularly colorful robes throws his arm around him as if they're long lost pals. The stranger speaks in undertones towards Harry, "Smile, boy. A photograph of you and me together; we're worth the front page!"

Harry tries to protest and begins pulling back only to feel the arm around him tighten. He quickly motions the photographers that followed him to move forward and flashes blink quickly and steadily blinding Harry. "This morning Harry Potter entered Flourish and Blotts, no doubt to buy my many, wondrous works. Little did the youngster know that he would be gifted a full set, autographed by yours truly, Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Applause is heard around the room, only Harry is still blinded by the flashes. Harry straightens and takes a step back. "All due respect, sir. I don't need nor want-"

"Nonsense, boy, you don't need to thank me!" Mr. Lockhart peers at Harry, tightening his grip on the boy. "Not only is Harry Potter receiving my collection, I have news that will delight the student population!"

Harry was tempted to ask if the man would kindly drop dead in order to please this particular student. Instead Harry looks past the photographers for some possible aid in his escape. "I was thinking to wait on this announcement, but with Harry here, the opportunity is just ripe." Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't miss a beat; playing the crowd and the news media. "I have been asked, as a personal favor to the headmaster himself, to teach this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As anyone that has read my books know this is right up my alley."

Stifling his groan, Harry finally manages to disengage himself from the man's clutches with a muttered thanks. Harry clutches Blaise's shoulder, "I'm blind. Not sure if it was from his ridiculous grin or those stupid flashes."

"Admit it, Potter. You enjoyed every moment of it." The drawled, bored voice came from somewhere past the crowd. Harry glances up in time to see the smirking boy slowly walk down the stairs followed by a man who could only be Draco's father. The man is the spitting image of Draco only taller, older, longer platinum blond hair pulled back in a black ribbon and a harsher glare.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Malfoy. It clashes with your yellow streak." Harry doesn't look at the older Malfoy, but if the look on Draco's face is anything to go by, Harry may be in a bit of a bind after that comment.

"What an interesting gathering." Mr. Malfoy's lip curls with distaste. Harry looks up at the man and is grateful his sneer is directed towards Mr. Weasley and not him. The look on Mr. Weasley's face isn't good though, his face turns red and splotchy. Harry raises an eyebrow of curiosity. There must be some history between the two men. Mr. Malfoy plucks a book from the Weasley daughter's cauldron. "Second hand books, Weasley? Pathetic. One would think a job at the ministry would at least pay well enough but then you dabble with the rabble and one cannot expect to be treated with respect."

Blaise tugs at Harry's sleeve, motioning with his head towards the exit just as a fight breaks out between the two men. Harry tugs on Hermione's sleeve as he passes, who in turn pulls her parents along with her. Harry shakes his head not sure what to think about the actions and words between the two men. "What was that all about?"

"Blood traitors, purebloods, it all boils down to status." Blaise straightens his sleeve and sniffs. "Malfoy's are known to be the biggest snobs," He shoots a glare at Hermione's scoff and continues, "when it comes to things such as blood status. Jason warned you, Potter. There are those within Slytherin that are not to be trusted.

"As for you, Miss Granger," Blaise smirks openly at Hermione as she blushes, "while I admit to being a snob. Be grateful it only pertains to those with manners, class and taste, not to blood status."

Mrs. Zabini fusses over Blaise as they both chatter on in Italian. Harry is growing accustomed to this as it happened often over the past two weeks in the Zabini home. Harry smiles up at Mrs. Zabini when she fusses over him, still rambling on in Italian until the bell over Flourish and Blotts' door jingles announcing someone is entering or exiting the establishment. "Maddalena Zabini," the way the name is caressed verbally startles Harry.

Her hand stills for a beat before brushing the fringe from Harry's brow, "Lucius Malfoy." Mrs. Zabini raises her amber eyes and meets Mr. Malfoy's gaze steadily. Tsking as if reprimanding the man, Mrs. Zabini casts a quick cleansing spell and the smudge on Mr. Malfoy's lapel is banished.

With a smirk, he bows his head quickly before glaring at those around her. "Non mi aspettavo di essere un traditore di sangue." (I never expected you to be a blood traitor.)

With a mere twitch of her eyebrow, Mrs. Zabini clearly shows her disappointment with whatever it is Mr. Malfoy said to her and Harry does his best to hide his amusement especially at how she pronounces Mr. Malfoy's first name, Luscious. "Si deve sapere meglio, Lucius." (You should know better than that, Lucius.)

"Hmm," Mr. Malfoy glares at Harry while adjusting his gloves. With a flick of his wrist, Mr. Malfoy snaps his cane under his arm smartly. Steps up to Mrs. Zabini and speaks softly so only she can hear as he passes by without another word.

Mrs. Zabini's eyes flick towards Harry and she smiles as Mr. Malfoy walks away followed by Draco. "You have a sharp tongue, Mr. Potter. It will either serve you well or get you into trouble. Use it wisely."

Harry startles at her choice of words and exchanges a quick glance with Blaise. Again the jingling bells draw their attention towards Flourish and Blotts' door. Mr. Vaisey holds the door as Jason and Alia file out with him. "Well, that was interesting."

"Daddy, can we go to Florean Fortescue's?" Alia clutches her cauldron and sighs with boredom.

"On one condition," when all children are looking at him, Mr. Vaisey gives his condition, "No one tells Mrs. Vaisey."

With children promising ill-advised obedience towards Mr. Vaisey, Mrs. Zabini tuts at him amused at her friend's antics. Harry frowns and looks back at the bookstore, "What about our books?"

"Already taken care of, they'll be at the house before we are." Mr. Vaisey drags the Grangers into conversation, leading them to the far side of Diagon Alley for some ice cream.

The children on the other hand follow slower so Jason has time to tell the others what they missed inside the store. Alia picks up on a few points, filling Jason's story with more drama and Hermione giggles at Alia's explicit description of Mr. Malfoy splayed on the bookstore floor.


	17. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Platform 9¾ **

"Harry!"

Jason, Blaise and Harry stop when they hear Harry's named called out. The boys turn and see a red faced, red head heading towards them as if he had been waiting for them. "Weasley?"

Ron looks as if he wants to say something but hesitates, shooting a look towards Jason and Blaise that Harry reads perfectly, as does Jason and Blaise. Jason's look hardens; hadn't they become amicable during Christmas break last year? Blaise simply stares stone faced and impassive. Jason speaks cautiously, "Weasley."

"Hey, Jason. Erm, can I…" Ron fidgets, "I uh, want to talk to Harry."

"I'll catch up to you on the train." Harry gives Jason and Blaise a reassuring nod. When Jason hesitates, Harry laughs, "He isn't about to hex me here in a muggle train station."

"Hex you?" Ron blinks in his confusion.

Blaise eyes him quietly. Jason shuffles his feet, a sheepish grin on his face. "Right. See you on the train then."

With Jason and Blaise gone, it's Ron's turn to shuffle his feet. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Harry peers at Ron, knowing full well what he's talking about, yet refusing to admit anything. "Afraid you'll need to be more specific."

Ron blinks again before he stands straighter, "Oh, the brooms. George and Fred, you sent 'em the brooms."

Eyeing Ron warily, Harry doesn't acknowledge Ron's theory, keeping his face expression free. Harry does it so well, Ron fidgets with doubt; Blaise would be proud of this performance. "We should go. The train will be leaving soon."

Ron sighs, unsure how he feels about Harry's reaction. Harry didn't answer; he didn't deny it, he didn't admit it, but Ron just knows, or he thinks he knows, or he _thought_ he knew. "Right."

Harry takes a quick look around them to see if anyone is watching, nods to Ron and tightens his grip on the trolley before moving towards the partition with Ron at his side. By the time they reach the partition between Platform Nine and Platform Ten they are at a full run. Both boys hit the wall hard enough to fall over on their collective backsides, belongings scattering. Hedwig screeches in her cage, fluttering wildly at the injustice of being tossed to the floor so roughly.******  
**

Groaning Harry staggers to his feet hearing the blasted muggles commenting on things they don't understand. Things like silly boys and their antics, playing when they should be behaving in public, among other, not so kind, opinions. Ron harrumphs rubbing the back of his head. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Harry starts to panic, straightening his trolley and reloading it with his belongings. He then pats the solid wall before leaning his forehead against it. "If we can't get through, how will we get to Hogwarts?"

"My family is on the other side of that wall." Ron looks around them before picking up his own belongings and restacking his trolley.

"We have to get to school, Weasley. I will not go back to the Dursleys!" Harry hits the wall with his fist, hissing softly when the brick scrapes ruthlessly at his skin. "This can't be happening. Why would you do this to me?" Harry rounds on Ron, "You made us late for the train, now we can't get through!"

Harry grabs hold of Ron's shoulders, shaking the boy screaming at his face. "Why, Weasley? Why would you do this?"

"Blimey, Harry. I didn't do anything!" Weasley pulls out of Harry's grasp staring wide eyed at the boy.

"Okay so we're stuck on the wrong side. We have no way of getting to school." Pacing back and forth, raking his fingers through his hair, Harry tries to calm down. A piercing screech brings his pacing to an abrupt halt as Harry stares at the caged bird. Harry's eyes light up as the idea hits him. "Right. I can send Hedwig with a note to the Headmaster, tell him what happened explaining our situation and he will send someone to get us… in about a week. How far is Hogwarts anyway?"******  
**

"Or I could drive my father's car. Just follow the train." Ron starts walking away, pushing his trolley before him.

Harry had started pacing again but stops when he hears Ron's voice drift away and grabs his own trolley rushing to catch up to him. "You can drive?"

"Sure! Well, mostly. It doesn't drive like the normal car does anyway. It flies." Ron says this so matter of factly that Harry doubts he heard him correctly.

"Did you just say the car… flies?" Harry pushes his trolley through the door crossing the parking lot, gaping at Ron who simply nods as if a flying car is the most natural thing in the world. "That isn't _normal_, Weasley. We'll be spotted."

Ron taps the car with his wand in a specific pattern that is lost on Harry, opening the boot and starts packing his things inside. "Nah, it has a cloaking device. It's rather brilliant bit of magic."

Harry sighs and glances behind him. He isn't left with much choice. He can't very well fly his broom to Hogwarts. He has no idea where it is plus how would he get his belongings there. Pacing beside the car, his stomach in knots, Harry shakes his head. "I can't do this. Something just doesn't sit well with me."

"I'm telling you, Harry. It's brilliant." Ron is about to grab Harry's trunk when Harry stops him.

"What about your parents? How will they get home if we take the car?" Harry peers at Ron, poking holes in his idea.

"They apparate. They're of age. We only took the car because most of us are kids and have all our school gear." Ron beams triumphantly at his reasoning.

"No, I'd rather not face Professor Snape's anger by showing up in that thing." Harry jabs a finger at the Weasley's Ford Anglia before pulling his trolley to the sidewalk. "I hope you know what you're doing, Weasley."

Harry opens his trunk looking for parchment and quill. Ignoring Ron, he hears the car's door slam closed moments before the engine roars to life and pens a note, just not to the Headmaster.

**_Professor Snape,_**

**_I am in a bit of a bind. I tried to go through the portal at King's Cross, the barrier was closed. I wasn't late but Ron Weasley stopped to talk to me, next thing I know the wall is solid.  
__I'm still at the station even though Weasley tried to convince me to go with him and take his father's car. I'm not sure I trust the Gryffindor git, even if he had been straight with me before. His detaining me is a bit too convenient to be anything less than a trap.  
__Any suggestion as to what I should do now?_**

**_Regards,  
__Harry Potter_**

Folding the note, Harry slips Hedwig from her cage. Smoothing down her feathers, he talks softly to her, "I need you to take this to Professor Snape at Hogwarts. I realize it's far away, or I think it is anyhow, just do your best. Please."

Hedwig nips his finger gently, grabs the note and flies off. Harry watches quietly before sighing. Running his fingers through his hair, Harry mumbles under his breath a plea to the empty cage for his snow owl to fly fast and true.

"Harry?" The woman's voice behind him is familiar.

Harry turns, glancing momentarily towards the empty parking spot before he responds politely. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

* * *

Harry stands quietly beside Mr. Weasley at the closed gates of Hogwarts. He feels as if he should apologize again for Ron's actions, but Mr. Weasley has already told him not to feel responsible for his son, so Harry decides not to say it for the third time. "Thank you for taking the time to bring me here, Mr. Weasley. I know I'm not your responsibility-"

"Nonsense, Harry. You're every wizard's responsibility. Under aged wizards and witches are to be looked after by adults, it is the wizarding way." Mr. Weasley nods as if this should be common knowledge. and maybe it is, but Harry didn't know. How would he?

"Still, I appreciate it." Harry watches the horizon and notices a man in black walking towards them in the distance. The tall man, with black hair and black eyes, stops before them with his arms crossed over his chest, his billowing black robes whipping around his ankles while he waits for the gates to open. "Professor Snape."

The relief in Harry's voice does not go unnoticed by the professor or Mr. Weasley. Both men look at the boy before Harry clears his throat remembering he is a Slytherin.  
"Molly and I found Harry in the parking lot of King's Cross. He mentioned sending a note with his owl and was waiting for direction. I thought it would be faster simply to bring him to you." With a heavy sigh, Mr. Weasley continues, "I wish I could say my son, Ron, used his head like Harry did. Hopefully my boy will show up soon."

"The car that was spotted…" Professor Snape begins and lets the sentence drop when Mr. Weasley inhales sharply before nodding stiffly. "I see."

"Well then Harry, you're in good hands now." Mr. Weasley says with a nod of confidence and Harry nods in agreement.

"Yes, I am. Please extend my gratitude to Mrs. Weasley." As Harry speaks, he steps back not realizing he immediately stands taller with an air of tenacity he lacked moments before. Merely standing beside Professor Snape, Harry's voice grows more confident before he extends his hand towards the man in farewell. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Weasley looks at Harry's hand, shakes it a time or two and grins awkwardly, "Right then." Without another word a distinct crack startles Harry and Mr. Weasley is gone.

"Do you ever get used to that cracking sound?" Harry looks up at Professor Snape and grimaces. "I'm sorry, sir. I-"

"We shall discuss this in my office." With a flick of his wand, Harry's trunk and belongings float along side them while they walk towards Hogwarts, the gate closing automatically behind them.

"May I ask a question, sir?" Harry glances back at the gate, hearing it click in place.

"If you must." Professor Snape keeps his eyes forward refusing to look towards Harry.

"Why didn't Mr. Weasley just walk me to the castle?" Harry tries not to look as if he is running to keep up with Professor Snape's fast pace.

"Mr. Weasley is neither a student nor staff so he cannot cross the school's wards." Professor Snape explains in the fewest words possible, his baritone voice is clipped and heavy with disdain.

"Oh," That one word is about all Harry can muster. Professor Snape still hates him it seems. Harry doesn't know what he expected, but he hadn't anticipated the sting of rejection or the pang of disappointment. Still, Harry straightens his shoulders and holds his head high. He is a Slytherin after all; there are standards Harry must abide by. "Thank you, Professor."

He isn't sure if he imagined it or if the professor actually glanced at him, but Harry doesn't mind either way. He is safe again at Hogwarts, under the care of Slytherin's Head of House, where he belongs. When they arrive at the dungeons, Professor Snape set his things down before the common room entrance. "Put your things in your dorm room, then come to my office. The current password is avidity."

The common room entrance silently slides open while Harry watches the swish of black fabric. Somewhere in his muddled mind he knows the floating fabric swirling in a circle of motion is Professor Snape's cloak, "Yes sir." This school year is not starting out well. Harry's mind is spinning. He isn't sure how long he stood there watching Professor Snape's robe, but it must have been a little while because in reality, Harry is alone in the hall staring at nothing with the common room entrance open and waiting patiently for him to enter.

Trudging his trunk, suitcase and empty cage along, Harry quickly put his things at the foot of his bed. Before leaving his dorm room, Harry changes into his school robes, smoothes his hair, straightens his glasses and grabs his wand.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tries to calm his nerves and knocks twice in quick succession on Professor Snape's office door. "Enter."

Harry turns the handle and enters Professor Snape's office, closing the door behind him. He stands quietly before the man's desk, waiting to be acknowledged. Professor Snape continues to write for a few more minutes before setting his quill down. Professor Snape nudges the note Harry wrote to him. "Your owl has arrived, she is in the owlery."

"Thank you, sir." Harry isn't sure if that is what he should say but he is grateful Hedwig is safe so saying thanks feels right.

Professor Snape looks at Harry, anger flashing in his eyes. Harry flinches and drops his gaze to the professor's clasped hands, long fingers wrapped together, index fingers extended with pads touching. "You think you're too good to take the Hogwarts Express?"

"No, sir." Harry doesn't argue, doesn't raise his voice. Harry knows that Professor Snape will either believe him or he won't and arguing or attempting to argue will make him look guilty and anger the professor further.

His eyes peering accusingly at Harry, Professor Snape snaps angrily pulling the boy's gaze to meet his own. "What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Mr. Vaisey got us to the station in plenty of time. Mr. Vaisey and Alia Vaisey went through the barrier with ease. Jason Vaisey, Blaise Zabini and I were about to go through when Ron Weasley stopped us. I had Vaisey and Zabini go ahead, figured I'd be safe speaking to Weasley in a public place filled with muggles." Harry notes the small twitch of Professor Snape's eyebrow but kept telling the story as best he could.

"We spoke for less than a minute before attempting to go through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but we hit a solid wall instead. I blamed Weasley thinking it was some kind of trick. He didn't seem to understand so I may be wrong about his intentions. Still, when he decided to take his father's car I hesitated. That is when I wrote the note to you and moments later met up with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they came back for their now missing car." Harry took an unsteady breath. "I really am sorry for all the trouble."

"The real trouble will start when the Weasley boy shows up, but he's Professor McGonagall's problem." Professor Snape snorts before standing and walking around his desk. "Have you had lunch?"

"No, sir." Harry's stomach decides now would be a good time to agree and growls. Loudly.

"Come." Professor Snape leads Harry to the Great Hall and has him sit at the Slytherin table. He conjures a plate with sandwiches, a goblet and a picture of pumpkin juice. "Sit."

Harry sits as he is told and looks up at Professor Snape, "Thank you."

"I'm not sure if I believe you or not, Mr. Potter." Professor Snape crosses his arms before him. "Your father used to tell tall tales. Lied constantly to get himself and his cronies out of trouble. Only this story of yours is almost believable."

"I didn't know my father. I have no idea what kind of person he was." The hurt flashes in Harry's eyes before he can school himself. He drops his gaze, staring at the pitcher. "I didn't lie, sir. I have no reason to lie. I wish there was a way I could prove it to you, but I just don't-"

"Potter." Harry's head snaps up and he looks at Professor Snape.

Harry's world turns inside out and he's suddenly remembering back hours ago when they were loading the car. Jason calls for Alia who is hugging her crying mother. Moving forward quickly, as if a movie is fast forwarded, they are arriving at the station and Mr. Vaisey is helping Alia through the barrier.

'Harry!' It's as if he can hear Ron's voice calling him, the memory is so clear as if its happening again.

The awkward shrug, the boys hitting the barrier, Harry looks at the clock, hitting the barrier with his fist, shaking Ron and yelling at him. Harry watches as he walks with Ron out to the car and stops in a panic.

'No, I'd rather not face Professor Snape's anger by showing up in that thing.' Harry writes a note, sends off Hedwig, Harry mumbles at the cage and the Weasleys appear.

Harry is suddenly dizzy and he blinks rapidly before his surroundings become clear. "What was that?"

"Legilimens, it allows me to delve into your mind to see your memories." Professor Snape looks at Harry for a moment as if he can't decide on something. "What was it you said to the empty cage?"

Panic fills Harry and he looks away quickly to hide his embarrassment. "I was sort of praying that Hedwig would hurry."

"Eat, then come see me for detention before the other students arrive." Professor Snape turns on his heel and Harry lets his breath out slowly.

Closing his eyes, Harry remembers exactly what he mumbled to the cage. He didn't lie to Professor Snape; he did wish Hedwig would hurry. Harry simply omitted the last part: 'Professor Snape's the only one I trust.'

* * *

The Hogwarts Express isn't due for another three hours. For Harry's detention, Professor Snape has him cataloging potion ingredients in his supply closet. Harry is looking over the order in which they are placed. They aren't alphabetical, they are by types, strengths, rarity. With parchment and quill, Harry takes inventory, counting, arranging, stacking. With a rag, he cleans, aligns, adjusts. With meticulous care, Harry manages to accomplish his task in a timely manner and can't seem to hide the small grin of pride in his work.

"Work on your summer homework before this evening's feast." Professor Snape isn't looking at Harry. He's reading the inventory list Harry wrote up for him.

"I finished that at the Vaisey home, sir." Harry hesitates before stepping out of the supply closet closing the door with a soft click. His stomach is squirming with unease and Harry blurts out a question he had no intention of ever asking. "Why do you hate me, sir?"

Professor Snape inhales sharply and Harry winces. Still facing the closed door, Harry doesn't dare turn around. He grips the handle harder and Harry's voice shakes audibly. "I'm sorry, sir. I have no business asking or assuming. I'll go."

When no response is given, Harry turns slowly noting he's alone in Professor Snape's classroom. Leaning against the supply closet door, Harry closes his eyes tightly reining in his emotions.


	18. The Feast

**The Feast**

Harry watches quietly as students return to Hogwarts. The parade of boys and girls wearing flowing black robes, pointed hats and various emotions pass him as he leans against the wall of the Entrance Hall. He's hoping to catch up with his friends as the chattering, laughing throng of children make their way into the Great Hall for the sorting and feast. "Harry!"

His head snaps to the left, feeling the twinge of pain the sharp movement rewards him with. "Weasleys."

The twins move quickly towards him, "Where's Ron?" Asks one, which twin Harry isn't sure. He thinks that it is George, but really they are identical so Harry figures he is probably wrong about his guess.

"No, clue." Harry pushes away from the wall he was leaning against.

One starts as the other joins, "Everyone says,"

"You were last one seen with him,"

"Only here you are,"

"And no Ron." The twins make an impressive wall with their bodies, standing shoulder to shoulder and blocking most of Harry's view of the other students filing by.

Harry refuses to feel intimidated. Of all the Weasleys he's met so far, these two are the only ones he has much respect for. Ron ranked right with them up until today's stunt. Still annoyed with Ron, Harry doesn't curb the bite in his response. "Thanks to him, we missed the train. Then he stranded me at King's Cross, taking your father's car out for a joy ride."

Fred and George stare at him for a moment before laughing. "Our little brother,"

"Drove off in Dad's car,"

"After missing the train?"

"Brilliant!" They both quip, laughing harder.

Smirking Harry shakes his head. "Your parents don't agree. They were both angry when they found out."

"You told Mom and Dad?" The left one asks.

"You volunteered or they asked?" The twin on the right questions.

"They asked. I had no reason not to tell them the truth." Harry peers at the boys. "You do realize your brother caused this trouble. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have had detention and school hasn't even officially started."

"That may be a new record." Says the twin on the right.

"Even we haven't gotten detention that quickly." Adds the twin on the left.

Harry chuckles, "Well you can keep your record, I hate detention." Spotting his friends entering the Hall, Harry makes his excuses and leaves the brothers talking softly amongst themselves.

"Did I miss anything interesting on the train?" Harry nudges Jason's arm with his elbow.

"Potter," Jason sighs in relief, "Didn't miss much, just a rumor that you were hexed by Weasley."

"I can't imagine who would start _that _rumor." Harry smirks at Jason who shrugs nonchalantly. "Where is Zabini?"

Jason smirks and nods towards their right. Harry looks over in time to see Daphne Greengrass, a fellow second year Slytherin, laughing at something Blaise said. While Blaise is looking forward, his usual calm demeanor firmly in place, Daphne is clinging to his arm. "Bird won't leave him be."

"Harry?" The soft anxious voice catches his attention and he grins.

"Granger, good to see you." Harry pulls Hermione into an awkward one armed hug before releasing his hold on her. "How was the rest of your summer?"

"Good. We missed you on the train. Jason said you were hexed by Ron Weasley." Hermione tilts her head in confusion when Harry punches Jason's arm, calling him a prat. Biting her bottom lip, Hermione worries she caused the best friends to fight as Jason swings to punch back. "Stop!"

Both boys stop in the tracks and stare at her. "What's wrong?"

"You're fighting." Hermione looks from one to the other as they both laugh.

"We aren't really." Jason wraps an arm around Hermione's shoulder and the other around Harry, urging them towards the Great Hall before they're late for the feast. "It's a guy thing, Granger."

At the large doors to the Great Hall, Jason's arms drop quickly and he stands taller as does Harry. Instinctively the two boys slip into their Slytherin personas and Hermione watches the room. "It always amuses me."

Harry looks at her with a raised eyebrow, "What does?"

"When it's just us, you two are normal and relaxed. The moment others are around, you're both different people. I've gotten used to that, but watching their reactions to you two is kinda fun." Hermione nudges Harry and nods towards the Slytherin table. "They're watching me with their beady eyes wondering what you're doing with a mudblood."

Giving Hermione a faux shocked look, Harry admonishes her. "Tsk, such language, Miss Granger. We do not use that word nor should you. It is both demeaning and beneath you." Jason smirks giving Hermione a sly wink before heading to the Slytherin table. Hermione does her best not to giggle. Continuing on Harry gently places his hand at the small of Hermione's back and escorts her to the Ravenclaw table. "The proper term is Muggle-born."

Laughing Hermione smiles up at Harry, "You're quite right. Thank you, Mr. Potter."

"It is my pleasure, Miss Granger." Harry's eyes dance with humor even while keeping a straight face. Lowering his voice, Harry leans a tad closer to her, "Careful, people already think you're _madly_ in love with me."

Hermione sputters, "Harry!" and smacks him on the shoulder to which Harry laughs good naturedly before walking to the Slytherin table.

Harry walks with his hands folded behind him, lost in thought, before sliding into a seat between Jason and Blaise. Having witnessed the small scene between the two friends, Blaise leans closer to Harry. "I thought you said you two weren't-"

"Don't start." Harry shoots him a warning glance. When Blaise smirks, Harry tries a new tactic. "Greengrass is trying to get your attention."

"She's been pestering me since King's Cross. She's cute enough, has manners and etiquett but can't carry on a decent conversation to save her life. Where have you been?" Blaise's question is interrupted as Professor McGonagall arrives with the first year students.

Once in place, the students and faculty listen to the song of the Sorting Hat. It's different from last year's song; still covering similar concepts of the Houses and their standings, but the tune is different as well as the words. With the song ended, the sorting begins. The three friends clap politely for each new Slytherin, wait patiently for any others until the name they've been waiting for is called. Professor McGonagall looks over her square spectacles expectantly, "Vaisey, Alia."

The last two weeks at the Vaisey home over the summer was a lot of fun, partly due to that little eleven year old girl who grins shyly at the Slytherin table. With a deep breath she walks with confidence to the three legged stool and takes a seat, smoothes her skirt and folds her hands on her lap.

Spunky little Alia, with her quick wit and humorous banter kept Jason, Blaise and Harry in stitches and out of trouble with Mrs. Vaisey a time or two. Now she's sitting with the Sorting Hat on her head, keeping as still as she can. "Slytherin!"

Jason, Harry and Blaise cheer the loudest at the Slytherin table. Alia blushes and rolls her eyes at them. Handing the Sorting Hat back to Professor McGonagall she slides off the stool to take her rightful place at the Slytherin table.

Scooting over to make room, Jason pats the seat between him and Harry. Alia slips between them mortified at their behavior. "You promised."

Jason smirks, "And you believed us?"

Alia pouts as they resume listening to the rest of the sorting ceremony as yet another Weasley is called to be sorted. This is the last Weasley child to join the ranks of Hogwarts students and the only daughter out of seven children, "Weasley, Ginevra."

Since the girl is a Weasley, naturally the whole school expects she will be sorted into the Gryffindor House with the rest. So everyone in the Hall is watching with great interest as the Sorting Hat ponders her fate. Harry nudges Blaise, "All Weasleys are in Gryffindor. So why is her sorting taking so long?"

"No idea. Although keep in mind that not all siblings go to the same house. For instance, the Patil twins are in different houses." Blaise nods towards the Ravenclaw table eyeing the dark haired beauty, "Padma is in Ravenclaw and her twin is a Gryffindor."

"Padma, hmm?" Harry smirks at his friend who simply ignores him. Chuckling Harry turns his attention back to the Weasley girl. "Has any other sorting taken this long?"

"Yours did." Blaise smirks when Harry looks at him stunned. "Some say yours took longer than most. Surprised the whole school when that hat yelled-"

"Slytherin!" The whole school is stunned, including the girl on the stool. She stares at the Sorting Hat as it leaves her finger tips while the Weasely twins stand up to protest. She shakes her head at her brothers and lowers her gaze before walking slowly to the Slytherin table to take a seat.

Squealing, Alia hops up and moves to an open area so she and her newly sorted friend can sit together. Ginevra and Alia sit across from the three who eye them quietly. "I almost died when she called me Ginevra. I hate that name."

"Shh, don't let anyone hear that or you'll never be called anything else." Alia warns before glancing pointedly at her brother and his friends.

"Ginevra, Weasley or Weaslette; we'll let you pick." Jason smirks.

Ginevra groans. "Can't you just call me Ginny?"

"Weaslette it is." Jason says with a confirmed nod.

"Ignore him. I do. You remember my brother, Jason, from the train. These are his best friends, Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini." Alia points to the boys across from them, "They're all second years but they promised not to embarrass me, which they broke that promise _already_."

Harry smirks at the girls and turns his attention back to the introduction of the new professor. While the majority of the students applauded enthusiastically, most of the Slytherin table keep quiet or only politely clap.

"I wonder where Professor Snape is." Jason nods at the empty seat at the head table.

"He's probably keeping an eye out for Weasley." Harry growls, which immediately catches Ginevra's attention.

"What about my brother?" Ginevra's eyes harden protectively.

"Your precious brother took your father's car this morning. He hasn't shown up yet." Harry said as matter-of-factly as he could muster, leaving any personal feelings out.

Ginevra's eyes soften with concern. "I hope he's okay."

"There goes Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. I think he made it." Harry points to the main table again. "Madam Pomfrey is still at the table; that's a good sign that he's in one piece."

With a soft sigh of relief, Ginevra stares at her plate as the feast has began. "For now he is. Mum's gonna kill him."

"How are they going to feel about you being a Slytherin?" Harry prompts.

Ginevra groans, dropping her head into her palms. "She's going to kill Ron. Then she's going to kill me."

"You're a Slytherin now, Weaselette. We're your family and we'll protect you." Ginevra glances at Jason and blushes.

* * *

"Alright, Potter. Give." Blaise tugs off his uniform with practiced ease, deftly laying the garments at the foot of his bed as the three friends prepare for bed.

"Weasley made me late for the train." Harry tugs his tie loose as thoughts tumble in his mind. "The barrier was up blocking us getting on the platform. As much I want to blame the Weasle for it, it doesn't make sense. What's his angle? Why make us late? Why was it so important for me to get in the car?"

"What do you mean?" Jason slips his pajamas on and climbs on his bed.

"He just seemed so…" Dropping his tie on his trunk, Harry slips off his black robe and folds it before draping it over his bed. "I'm not sure. Driving to school seemed the _only_ answer to him. He was a bit too eager."

Blaise sits on the edge of his bed, thinking aloud. "We'll just have to keep an eye on that one. I thought they were blood traitors. I can't imagine he's into something dark."

"Maybe he just fancies you." Jason tries to hide his smirk. "He wanted to get you alone in the car. Weasley could just be into blokes. Face it, Potter, you have a cute-"

Harry's pillow flies across the room to hit Jason in the face. "Not funny."

Blaise and Jason laugh, "It's funny."

"Shut it, both of you." Harry continues to get ready for bed changing the subject back to their earlier discussion. "Well, I refused to get in the car. Instead I sent a message to Hogwarts with Hedwig and Weasley took his parents' car. Professor Snape gave me detention for missing the train."

"Please tell me you didn't lose any house points." Blaise sighs heavily. "Term hasn't even started, Potter."

"I didn't lose points." Harry flinches when his pillow is thrown back at him, hitting him in the head. He fluffs the pillow idly as he clambers onto the bed. "Just had detention for a bit then I did what any guy would."

"Masturbate." Jason says with a nod.

"Not for two hours. I'd die. No. I grabbed my cloak and had a look around. Didn't see anything interesting until Professor Sprout came in, headed to her common room with some weird plants and then I followed her to the kitchen." Harry lies back with his hands folded neatly behind his head. "Didn't go in the kitchen though, too many house elves."

"Wait so you were in the Hufflepuff common room?" Jason cranes his neck to look at Harry rather than move from his comfortable spot in bed.

"No, I didn't want to press my luck. I tried to go back later and I guess I hit the wrong barrel. Had to take a shower after that." Harry sighs.

Blaise rises to look over at Harry, "Okay that odd statement requires an explanation."

"Professor Sprout tapped a rhythm on a barrel with her wand and the lid opened showing a passage. When she went into the kitchen I went back, I thought it was the same barrel or maybe I got the rhythm wrong. Next thing I know I'm covered in some foul smelling liquid. I did that spell Mr. Vaisey does when he thinks his wife isn't looking-"

"What spell?" Jason rolls over on his side, fluffing his pillow.

"Scourgify. I had to clean up the floor. Didn't want anyone to see the mess I made. After that I came back for a shower to get that stink off." Harry sits up. "The kitchen is in the same hallway in the basement. There's a large painting of fruit in a bowl. Professor Sprout tickled the pear, the thing actually _giggled_. It was weird. Anyhow, it then became a handle and she opened the door. I swear this castle is fascinating in the weird ways it keeps its secrets."

"Even if you couldn't get into their common room, knowing where it is can be handy." Blaise lies back in contemplation.

"You know, walking around when the castle is nearly empty is almost as creepy as walking around after curfew. Difference is you can see where you're going." Harry shrugs when his two roommates look at him. "Found a few hidden nooks and hallways I never noticed before. I think I may need to do some exploring during the holidays."


	19. Mandrakes & Pixies

**Mandrakes & Pixies**

Breakfast is nothing special; porridge, eggs, toast, bacon, juices and the usual fare. Harry watches quietly as the swarm of owls swoop in, hundreds of feathered mail carriers with packages, notes, and newspapers. A flop with a crash of milk spectacularly splashing at least three students catches Harry's attention across the Hall. "Someone needs a new owl. I think that one just died in Weasley's breakfast."

A small gasp down the table catches his attention. Ginevra has a look of concern and trepidation. "That's Errol, the family owl," with a soft shudder she continues, "and he's brought Ron a Howler."

That announcement gets everyone's attention, anyone within earshot of Ginevra that is. Alia's eyes have grown wide as saucers and she quickly stuffs her fingers in her ears as do many others around the table. Harry hasn't a clue what a Howler is but when Jason and Blaise both react similarly, Harry decides not to ask and follows suit just in time.

Across the Great Hall, Ron has opened the Howler and Mrs. Weasley's words shriek, filling the room with her shrill, screaming voice. The room vibrates from the intensity of the Howler causing the plates and glasses to rattle on the tables. Harry can feel the anger emanating as it continues and his own anger at the boy is now in turmoil. Harry had been angry with Ron for delaying him, for getting him detention and somehow tying him into the wild scheme of his to the point that half the school believed he was in the car, too.

The silence that follows the Howler is almost as deafening as the screaming but it is short lived as the laughter at Ron's expense soon follows. While Harry expects the Slytherins to laugh at him, he's a bit surprised to see other houses snickering at him as well, including a few from his own house. Harry goes back to eating his breakfast even though his mind remains across the Great Hall. Ron's father is in trouble at work. Harry likes Mr. Weasley well enough. He helped Harry out afterall. Ron's troubles are another matter. As much as Harry would like to deny it, a part of him feels almost delighted about Ron's Howler. The prat asked for it, his father didn't.**  
**

"Mr. Potter." The dulcet baritone breaks through Harry's daze and his head snaps up immediately to meet the piercing gaze of obsidian eyes.

"Thank you, sir." Harry takes his class schedule from Professor Snape and looks at it with feigned interest. He watches the professor walk down the row of students handing out slips of paper and notice an odd calm around the man that Harry didn't notice yesterday.

"Double Herbology, at least we get some fresh air first thing." Jason stuffs his schedule in his pocket and leans over to see Alia's. "Charms with Hufflepuff. You'll like that class. Professor Flitwick is a decent professor. Getting accustomed to his high pitched voice may take a bit. The more excitable he is, the higher it goes."

Harry snorts and Blaise chuckles. "Vaisey would know." Blaise pushes away from the table cutting off any rebuttal from Jason, "Let's get going before he starts getting too nostalgic."

Jason smirks, "Make us proud, Al." He gets up to follow Blaise and Harry. "Later, Weaselette."

"Bye." Ginevra squeaks and all three turn to look at her as she hides her blush whispering in hushed tones with Alia. The boys glance at each other and shrug before making their way out of the castle.

The sun is making its trek across the blue sky with wisps of white clouds scattered for their viewing pleasure. "What a beautiful morning." Harry's eyes catch movement towards the greenhouses. Gryffindor students gather near the building along with Slytherin, all watching the two professors approach. "There goes my beautiful morning." Harry mumbles and slips behind Blaise and Jason in an attempt to hide.

Professor Sprout, carrying an armload of bandages, along with the mauve clad, blond grinning Professor Lockhart stop before the students. While Professor Lockhart is grinning like the fool he is, Professor Sprout looks rather put out and none too happy with her co-worker. "Ah, good morning!" Professor Lockhart's grin widens with a flash of white teeth at his captive audience. "I've just been helping Professor Sprout with the care of the Whomping Willow."

That is the last Harry heard. At this point, Harry's gaze wanders down in the direction the two had come from and he notices for the first time a very large tree. Harry peers from behind Blaise, tilting his head at the odd sight of a bandaged tree. Now that is a sight one does not see every day. The others start walking and Harry quickly moves to keep up. Unfortunately Harry doesn't move quickly enough and an arm is unexpectedly around his shoulder, impeding his escape.

Harry stiffens instantly, his hand on his wand, he whips around coming face to face with Professor Lockhart. "Harry! I was hoping to have a quick word. You don't mind do you, Professor Sprout? Ah, thank you."

The look on Harry's face, the plea in his eyes as they lock with Professor Sprout's just before the door is rudely closed in her face by Professor Lockhart is as un-Slytherin as could be. Harry closes his eyes and takes a quick breath before purposefully stepping out of the man's clutches. Rounding on the man in order to reprimand him for daring to touch a Slytherin is cut short as once again Professor Lockhart's overbearing persona grabs control of the conversation. "Harry, Harry, Harry. I blame myself of course. I gave you that first taste of fame. You shouldn't do things that will endanger you at such a tender age. You have a whole life ahead of you to do such daring acts."

Stunned into silence, Harry simply stares at the man. What is he going on about? What did he think Harry did? "Daring acts?"

"Yes, exactly, my boy," as Professor Lockhart steps forward, Harry warily steps back, "driving off in a flying car, reckless, simply reckless. I'm sure it got you plenty of attention and as I said, I blame myself for giving you that taste of publicity with our photograph on the front page. Still it-"

"Professor, I don't know what you're going on about. I was never in any flying car. Now if you'll excuse me. I have class to attend." Harry slips around a blustering professor and ducks into the greenhouse leaning against the door to catch his breath before he screams in anger and frustration.

"Today we will be repotting Mandrakes." Professor Sprout catches Harry's attention and motions him to come join the class.

With a small embarrassed nod, Harry moves to stand beside Blaise and Jason while shooting an angry glare at Ron. Ron has the decency to look away, even if he did look angry and not the least bit remorseful.

"Can anyone tell me the properties of the Mandrake?" Professor Sprout continues while passing out earmuffs to the class. When no one is willing to volunteer an answer Professor Sprout calls on Neville to which he not only gives the correct response, he earns Gryffindor ten points.

Class continues with questions and answers and a demonstration of the proper way to repot a Mandrake. The students are then sorted to groups of four and Harry is pleasantly surprised when their fourth is Neville. "Longbottom."

Neville grins at Harry and Jason before his grin slips at the odd cold calculating stare of Blaise. "I'm um, Neville Longbottom." His grip on his ear muffs tighten until Blaise finally gives a small nod.

"Glad you could join us. I thought for a moment that Greengrass was going to make another of her annoying appearances. I'm Blaise Zabini." Blaise looks away from Neville but doesn't miss the relief that floods the boy's cheeks as the color returns to his face.

"Harry?" Neville suddenly looks hesitant. "You weren't really in that car with Ron, were you?"

"No, Longbottom, I wasn't. I was at the sorting last night, I wasn't yelled at by the Howler, and I don't know how my name got mixed up in all that." Harry sighs softly flicking at the soil before them.

Neville looks relieved. "I didn't think you were. I'm glad. Some think Ron's drive was brilliant but-"

Professor Sprout shouts for everyone to put on their ear muffs and she'd signal them when class is over effectively stopping all further conversation. Each group is given four baby Mandrakes to repot and as much as the babies fight when pulled from the warmth of their small pots, they fight just as hard to stay out once they've been freed.

Harry fusses with his Mandrake as it kicks and flails. Neville grabs the larger pot, sets it down as Blaise begins filling the bottom with fresh soil. Jason tries to grab the legs and Neville grabs the arms. Together they manage to get the Mandrake safely in the pot. Wasting no time, Blaise begins scooping more soil into the pot and they collectively sigh in relief as the Mandrake calms. It took much too long to get that accomplished and they still have three more to go.

By the end of class, the four are sweaty and dirty and quite ready to get out of that greenhouse. "Good job, Longbottom." Jason claps Neville on the shoulder as they walk back towards the castle.

The friends went back to their room to freshen up before heading off to their next class. Blaise stood before the mirror straightening his tie, "What is Longbottom's story?"  
Harry combed his fingers through his hair a few times before giving up. "What do you mean?"

Turning now to face his dorm mates, Blaise tries again, "Everyone has an angle, Potter. Everyone wants something. What does Longbottom want?"

Harry combs his fingers through his hair a few times before giving up. "What do you mean?"

Turning now to face his dorm mates, Blaise tries again, "Everyone has an angle, Potter. Everyone wants something; fame, money, power. What does Longbottom want?"  
"I don't know him very well. What I've noticed is Longbottom has only a few fair weather friends and no confidence." Jason finishes tying his shoes and joins his friends, grabbing their bags and heading towards the common room. "If I had to guess what Longbottom wants, I'd say that is what he wants."

* * *

The day is pleasant enough even with the flying car misunderstanding plaguing Harry. In Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall and Hufflepuff, Harry feels as if he has managed to forget most of what he learned last year and it takes half of class to remember how to do some of the more basic skills.

After lunch they are off to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lockhart and Ravenclaw. The class is an odd experience starting off with a pop quiz; fifty-four questions, all about Lockhart followed by crazed cornish pixies that cause havoc in the classroom while most manage to escape through a window, the others are left for the remaining students to clean up as Lockhart runs out the door closing it firmly behind him.

Hermione manages to remain calm while stunning the pixies along with Harry, Blaise and Jason. As soon as a little blue pixie is stunned Hermione's friends, Sara Fawcett and Padma Patil, help by throwing them back into their cage. "Admit it, Granger." Harry stuns another with a well timed stupify. "You're enjoying yourself."

"Okay, I'll admit it." Hermione laughs, stunning a pixie that is flying towards the broken window. "Since I'm not breaking any rules, I'm _allowed_ to have fun."

"Careful," Blaise stuns the pixie pulling on Padma's hair. Easing Padma's long black locks out of the frozen pixie's grip, Blaise tempers his smirk at her blush.

Padma bites her lip and takes the pixie from Blaise. "Thanks."

With the pixies in their cage, the six students look at the mess left in the room; paper is strewn everywhere, desks toppled over, books torn and scattered. Sara crosses her arms and resolutely states, "We are not cleaning up this mess."

Jason chuckles, "I agree. We took care of his pixies. Lockhart can deal with the clean up."

Harry stuffs his belongings into his book bag before slinging it over his shoulder. Brushing Hermione's wild hair back over her ear, Harry grins. "C'mon, let's get out of here before the coward comes back."

"He's not a coward." Hermione harrumphs, "He was giving us hands on experience."

As the six walk down the hall Blaise smirks, "I think knocking out a troll was enough experience for a while, Granger."

Hermione giggles, silently agreeing with him. At the stairs, the Ravenclaw students and the Slytherins pause before parting ways. Hermione can feel the other two girls pressing in on her to speak since she is already on friendly terms with these boys, "Thanks for sticking around and helping out. It would have taken so much longer if you hadn't."

Harry suddenly feels rather awkward and combs his fingers through his hair, his hallmark move when he's nervous. Blaise clears his throat and Harry stands taller, his calm demeanor slipping back in place. "Yes, well, don't let it get around that you spent quality alone time with Slytherins, it may be bad for your reputation." Harry winks at Hermione. "I'll see you later."

"It was fun," Jason gives a quick wave and follows Harry down the stairs.

Blaise is the last to walk away, grinning slyly at Padma causing her to blush. "Ladies." He gives a quick informal bow before departing. The soft giggles fade as the three run towards the Ravenclaw tower.

It was on their way to dinner when he finally catches up. "Harry?"

"The last time you stopped me to talk, things didn't turn out so well." Harry turns to face Ron. This time when Ron glances at Harry's friends neither Blaise, Harry nor Jason moves to accommodate him.

"Not this time, Weasley. You have something to say to our friend. You can say it in front of us." Blaise stays at Harry's side. Harry shoves his hands in his pant's pockets to keep from hugging his friends in relief.

Each Slytherin boy keeps a calm demeanor and Ron sighs. "Look, I didn't tell anyone you were with me in the car. I didn't close the barrier. I don't know why it happened, but it did." Ron's face is red and soon he throws his hands up in exasperation, "There."

Ron storms away and the boys watch him head towards the Gryffindor table. "There?" Harry looks from Jason to Blaise in his confusion. "I'm not sure what to think of that git."

"Um, H-Harry? M-Mr. P-Potter. Sir?" A squeak of a voice comes from behind them and Harry turns slowly wondering who in their right mind would be so frightened of him.

Harry finds himself facing a timid boy, smaller than most first year students. The boy is wearing Gryffindor colors, clutching a camera to his chest, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes blinking rapidly up at him. As the three Slytherins stand over him, the color in his face seems to drain from the boy until Harry finally deems he has suffered long enough and speaks to him. "Did you need something?"

Taking a breath at last, the boy's voice shakes when he speaks. "I'm Colin. Colin Creevey. I'm a fan. A huge fan." Harry scowls at him and he hurries. "I was, well, that's to say, I was hoping that maybe you," Collin takes a huge breath and rushes through the rest of his request thrusting his camera in front of him like a shield, "wouldletmetakeyourpicture?"

"I have a fan?" Harry scoffs. "I think I'm gonna be sick." Without another word, the three boys turn on their heels and head in to dinner, leaving the Creevey boy quaking in the Entrance Hall. "What on Earth is _wrong_ with people? I didn't do anything but I have a mouse for a fan."

"You survived." Blaise reminds him and Harry sighs.

"And here I thought you had to actually accomplish something." Harry slumps in his chair before pulling himself up right under Blaise's disapproving glance.

"Lockhart didn't accomplish anything and look how famous he is." Jason smirks at Alia's frown. "Of course Alia is in lurve with him. Wants to have little Lockhart babies."

"You're such a prat, Jason." Alia tosses a roll at him, which Jason catches and takes a bite from. "So what's this about a needing to accomplish something? You survived that whole stone thing. That was an accomplishment."

Harry peers at Alia, "Sure, but I didn't do it alone. I had help. So why don't they have fans?"

"You have a fan?" Ginevra and Alia giggle.

"Don't you have homework?" Harry sighs.

Ginevra tries to stifle her giggles. "Who is she?"

This question disturbs Harry and he isn't sure why exactly. Ginevra bites her lip nervously when Harry's eyes narrow in annoyance. "He's a first year; Colin Creevey, Gryffindor."

Alia groans, "He's such a pain! He's in our potions class. Poor Professor Snape was ready to strangle the boy in yesterday's class."

Professor Lockhart slips into the Great Hall straightening his clothes as he takes a seat at the staff table. Alia and Ginevra, along with other hormonal girls audibly swoon. "Al, please tell me you aren't really fooled by Lockhart." Blaise frowns at who the three consider their little sister, groaning when she blushes and looks away. "He's a fraud."

Scoffing Alia waves off Blaise's concern, "He's pretty sexy, has nothing to do with what he says he did."

Harry sits up stunned, "Sexy? You're eleven, what do you know about sexy?"

"You're twelve. What do _you_ know?" Alia harrumphs and ignores him for the rest of the meal leaving Harry confused and disturbed at how mature she is. Blaise hides his amusement, Jason doesn't. Ginevra talks quietly with Alia, leaving Harry to stew in his own thoughts.

First day back to Hogwarts and life is already churning in an odd direction. Then again, compared to last year, what did Harry expect? What is normal? Is every year here at this school going to be filled with oddities, mysteries and detention? Harry wonders what a regular year at Hogwarts would be like while he digs into his shepherd's pie.


	20. Mudblood

**Mudblood**

"Really? You won't even consider it?" Jason is crouching beside Blaise practically pleading with him.

Blaise is lounging in the common room, a book propped on his lap, temporarily forgotten in his exasperation. "No. Ask Potter."

Now on his knees, Jason stares at Harry as he enters the common room from their dorm room. "Potter, you'll go out with me, right?"

"I'll what?" Harry stops short, not understanding the question, nor the odd way his stomach drops with cold fear.

"Quidditch, Potter. Pre-tryout meeting is tonight. You'll go out to the pitch with me, won't you? You'd make a decent seeker." Jason hops up, the light in his eyes and enthusiasm is contagious and Harry is practically agreeing with him already.

"Wait, I don't want to be a seeker." Harry gives a half shrug. "I think I'd have more fun as a beater."

"You're rather small for a beater, Potter." Blaise looks at Harry over his book.

Harry folds his arms and huffs, "I'm not small."

"No, he's not, he's just right for small skinny beater." Jason is dragging him towards the exit and Harry laughs. "So you'll go?"

"Yes, already. Geez Vaisey, get a grip."**  
**

They talk excitedly all the way down to the pitch and enter the locker room quietly taking a seat near the back. Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch Captain, is pacing with his hands behind his back. His head is down in concentration causing his black, coarse hair to fall around as a curtain blocking his face. Without warning or forethought, Marcus stops and takes a deep breath. The tall, relatively muscular boy has large teeth and shifty grey eyes that are never more apparent than now as he looks over the gathered students.

"There's only so many positions on the team; one keeper, three chasers, two beaters and a seeker. If you can't keep up, you're cut. I want a backup or two for each position if possible. So who here thinks they got what it takes to be on the team?" Marcus peers at the room and sneers when the room erupts.

"If you don't like what I have to say, you're cut. If you can't take the pressure, you're cut. Get it? This is my team. I'm the captain and if you don't like what I have to say…" Marcus sneers once again, his lip curls showing those large crooked teeth and Harry shudders. "Leave."

Looking around the room, no one leaves. No one wants to be the first and they all want to be part of the team. Marcus simply nodded and for the first time since the meeting started, he smiles. Harry realizes his grin is much worse and shudders once again. "We have a new seeker."

Marcus leans against a locker and waits for a few minutes as the rumbling of questions and comments go around the room. "Now, I don't care what any of you have to say. It's my decision." Pushing away from the locker, he bellows on his way out, "Tryouts tomorrow at five. Don't be late."

Harry sits with his head down staring at his hands folded before him waiting for the room to empty. "You're sure about this, Vaisey?"

Jason sighs heavily and pushes away from the bench to walk back to the common room. "Maybe next year."

"We can still give it a try. Be a backup for someone, better chance of being on the team next year." Harry tries reasoning. He isn't sure if he's trying to convince himself or Jason at this point. Maybe Harry is just talking to fill a void he feels inside. He's not exactly sure; not sure what this emptiness is or how he will manage to fill it.

* * *

It's Saturday morning, tryouts were two nights ago, and the team is making their way towards the pitch. Harry, Jason, Blaise and Hermione are bringing up the rear when Gregory grunts, "Someone's on the pitch."

Marcus growls, "Not for long."

Hermione shivers at Marcus' feral tone and falls back a tad behind the others, suddenly feeling rather out of place. With Harry and Jason before her, Blaise beside her, Hermione feels a bit more comfortable as a spectator and is plenty glad no one makes a jab at her expense.

Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, is quick to point out their team has the pitch for the day. Naturally Marcus has a comback, a doozy of one that annoys Oliver. A note from Professor Snape trumps Oliver's claim and he huffs at Marcus. "Why?"

"To train our new seeker." Marcus motions towards Draco who puffs his chest out with self-importance.

The confrontation doesn't last long; heated words are exchanged, along with snarky remarks and cutting jibes but the look on the Gryffindor teams' face when they see the new brooms ends things for at least a few beats. Each of the Slytherin starting team carries a new broom, Nimbus 2001, best on the market. Or they will be once they become available in two months.

Harry schools his features as the Weasley twins glance his way, noting his training clothes and broom. Harry would like nothing more than to laugh at Draco but he doesn't. Not now, not in front of outsiders.

More spectators join the growing mob of students, Harry hasn't noticed Ron, Neville and a dark skinned boy that Harry had never met directly, join the group until he speaks. "At least the Gryffindor team earned their way on the team."

Bold words, from a bold boy. He stands with his arms crossed and dares Draco to prove the Gryffindor wrong. He is right after all. Draco's father bought his seeker position by bribing Marcus with new brooms. Harry refuses to admit that Draco has talent as a seeker, and he isn't about to let some nobody Gryffindor bad mouth his teammate.

Typical Malfoy move, Draco curls his lip and spits venom, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy mudblood!"

Harry's grip on his broom tightens and instinctively his free arm finds Hermione, snaking around her waist, pulling her protectively closer. Jason and Blaise both move closer forming their circle of protection around Hermione without a word spoken. While Hermione is safe from any Slytherin backlash, that doesn't save any other muggle-born foolish enough to speak to or cross paths with Draco.

"You'll pay for that, Malfoy!" As if in slow motion, Harry sees Ron grab his wand and point it at Draco.

Within that split second, Harry knows Draco asked for whatever hex that is surely heading his way. Still, that silly Slytherin pride within Harry refuses to allow a Gryffindor, even Ron or especially Ron, hex or curse a teammate. Harry snatches Hermione's wand from her back pocket, bringing his hand around with no time to spare, "Protego!"

Harry is surprised the spell worked as he hands Hermione back her wand. Draco wants to be angry at having been saved by the Boy-Who-Lived but the green flash that backfires at Ron has everyone' full attention; especially when Ron doubles over and becomes violently ill. Hermione tucks her wand into her back pocket, grimacing at Ron's disgusting noises. "You should probably get him to the hospital ward."

Hermione covers her mouth and looks away as Ron vomits green slugs quite vocally. Harry watches a bit, fascinated, wondering what hex that could have been and is a bit relieved to see the Weasley twins not bothering to hide their own amusement.

Jason wrinkles his nose at the scene before him, laughing. "Where is that Creepy kid with his camera? He's missing a great photo opportunity here."

Fred, or maybe it's George, grabs one of the green slugs and tosses it at one of his female teammates, a cute dark skinned girl. She squeals and their fun begins. Oliver throws his hands up and walks away when his team decides playing with green slugs is more productive than practice. Marcus steps around the scene and the rest of the Slytherin team follows without a word.

Harry and Jason walk with Blaise and Hermione towards the stands. Harry hesitates before joining the team, giving Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze. "You okay, Granger?"

Hermione nods and blushes, "Yes, well, as much as I don't care for the word, it wasn't directed at me." She shrugs, "It still bothers me to hear it but I'm fine."

"Stay with Zabini, ya?" Harry waves and follows Jason out to the field.

Harry had been right about their chances of getting on the team. Jason is a backup chaser since the team already has three. The team now consists of five chasers, along with two seekers, a keeper and three beaters, Harry being one of the three beaters.

In no time, the boys kick off the ground and take to the sky. Flying is brilliant, Harry loves the feel of the wind as it rushes by. Swinging his beater's bat, Harry relishes the feeling when it connects, sending the bludger sailing across the pitch.

Unfortunately for Harry, the other two beaters vying for the two starter roles are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco's two bodyguards. Both Vincent and Gregory are burly boys with exceptional upper body strength. Harry on the other hand has the advantage of being agile and a better flyer.

Jason, on the other hand, is definitely a backup player along with Victor Harper, as the three starter chasers are Marcus Flint, Graham Montague, and Adrian Pucey all older students with more seniority.

As for the seeker position, Draco is their new seeker putting Terence Higgs on reserves. Terence isn't thrilled about being upstaged by Draco, but he has a choice: play by Marcus' rules or don't play at all. The two boys circle above the others. Terence throws a small ball and Draco races to catch it before it can get away. Draco races forward zipping around Jason and straight for Harry in his pursuit of the faux snitch.

Harry pushes up out of the way, swings the bat and sends the bludger at Gregory. The practice has been going on for a good two hours and Harry's arm feels as stiff as his bat.

* * *

Every chance Marcus has to torture the team, he does. More accurate to say every chance the pitch is free; Marcus forces the Slytherin team to practice. Rain or shine, the Slytherin team is out training. When they aren't working on the field, Marcus has the beaters exercising. Vincent and Gregory don't require bulking up, Harry on the other hand is treated to extra practices, forced to eat more at meals and constantly has things thrown his way, usually aimed at his head, to keep his reflexes alert.

Practice in the rain is miserable. Today was spent flying in the pelting rain. The wind was cruel chilling him to the bone. Harry trudges into the Entrance Hall, rubbing his neck with a soft hiss. "Potter."

With a small sigh, Harry stops and stares at his muddy shoes as he drips rain on the Hall floor. Harry turns and mentally braces himself for the confrontation to come. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I should be angry with you." Draco stands before him, hair dripping from practice, mud and water pooling at his feet, arms crossed over his chest with a look of contemplation on his face. Harry's eyebrow rises but he wisely remains silent. "I'm supposed to hate you." Draco's eyes shoot to Harry's scar barely hidden behind the hair plastered to his forehead. The boy blinks in surprise. What exactly did Draco admit to, if anything? Does this mean Draco's father is a Death Eater? What about his mother? Harry's thoughts are interrupted as Draco continues, "That spell you did last week. If it wasn't for the Weasel sprawled out spewing vile green worms diverting everyone's attention, I would have been forced to curse you for stepping in."

"Right." Harry isn't sure what to say to that really. He was threatened and complemented in the same breath by none other than Draco Malfoy. Suddenly Harry feels the need to sit down. Draco is right of course. Damn him. "I couldn't let a Gryffindor get the upper hand on a Slytherin; it would have been bad for all of us."

Draco smirks openly, with amusement in his pale grey eyes. He combs his fingers through his dripping hair, in a rare moment of amiability. "Mention this conversation to anyone, I'll deny it and make your life a living hell."

"More than you already do?" Harry smirks back.

"A hundred times more," Draco's amusement is gone as he spoke softly, the underlying promise intensified by the hard steel glint in Draco's eyes. Draco turns on his heel and heads to the dungeons leaving Harry in stunned silence.

"Bloody brilliant," Harry mumbles to himself. A rare moment of a truce and Harry ruins it. Lost in his thoughts, Harry turns towards the dungeons only to be encompassed by a passing ghost. The frigid cold that sweeps through him sends his teeth to chattering. "Ungh!"

"What's that?" He turns quickly and is utterly abashed, "Ah, yes, sorry about that. You see, I was rather in my own head with thoughts of the hunt and yet another rejection and um… right."

"Hello," Harry peers at the distraught ghost, "I've seen you around the Gryffindor table a time or two."

"Yes, yes. I'm Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower, also known as Nearly Headless Nick." Nick bows gracefully tilting his head as if it were a hat showing Harry exactly why he's considered _nearly_ headless before plonking his head back on his shoulders properly. The proud grin on Nick's face is contagious and Harry finds himself grinning back.

"I'm Harry Potter, reserve Beater for Slytherin House, also known as… well, just Potter or Harry, really." Chuckling Harry gives a sheepish grin and a small one shoulder shrug.

"Well, 'just Potter', it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last. You're well known in our parts as well after all." Nick's good natured appeal is diminished by the occasional glances he casts to a letter in his hand. Harry glances towards it but keeps quiet, bottling up the question he is bursting to ask. "As I was mentioning," Nick is half speaking to Harry, half to himself, "it is simply unfair that a mere half an inch of skin and sinew keeps me from the Headless Hunt. Don't they know I would have gladly been properly beheaded if I had the chance? A blunt axe wasn't my idea in the first place, bloody thing didn't do a proper job anyway and it hurt!"

"I'm sorry you weren't accepted, Sir Nicholas." Harry is sorry, only he has no idea why. It isn't as if he's friends with this ghost, it isn't as if he knows what this Headless Hunt is all about, it's just how despondent and rejected Nick is, that is what gets to Harry.

"Potter!" The angry, gravel grated voice rakes down Harry's spine like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Harry cringes and schools his outward appearance before turning, "Mr. Filch."


	21. Death Day

**Death Day**

"Why?"

"Because I said we would."

"That's why _you _have to, not why _I_ do."

"Because you're my best friend."

"I hate you."

Harry chuckles, nudging Jason's shoulder. "No, you don't."

"I think it will be fascinating. Just wish it wasn't on Halloween." Hermione slips her right arm through Harry's and her left through Jason's while the three walk down the dungeon halls. "Just tell me we don't have to spend the whole time down here. I say we make an appearance, be polite and mingle, then head up to the Great Hall in time for dessert."

"That's brilliant, Granger." Harry's grin slips as the hall grows colder. "Anyone know a warming charm?"

Jason moves closer to the other two. "Next on my list of spells I must learn."

"Creepy." The hallway grows more ominous and some scratchy form of music greets them, Hermione's voice grows softer. "So I missed the part on how _I _was volunteered for this."

"You fall under that best friend category. Don't you wish you ignored me last year?" Harry smirks and Hermione simply rolls her eyes.

"No. If I had I would be dead thanks to a stinky troll." Hermione glances behind them, before pursing her lips. "Speaking of trolls, where's Blaise? How did he manage to get out of tonight?"

"Mr. Zabini is currently in the Great Hall deciding if he will deny knowing me and cut all ties or forgive me for being a bleeding heart Hufflepuff." Harry grins. "And my silence will cost you, Granger."

"Your?" Hermione stops and stares blankly at the laughing Slytherins, her eyes widen when she realizes her faux pas. Her voice is a choked whisper, "He'll hex me into next year."

"Mhmm," Jason chuckles softly and continues down the hall. "So what exactly happened with this Nick character anyway?"

"Filch was going to give me detention for muddying up his floor. Sir Nicholas was kind enough to convince Peeves to cause a distraction." Harry tugs Hermione forward when she continues to gape over her inadvertent comparison of Blaise to trolls. "Dropped a cabinet or something; it was expensive from what Filch said. Anyhow, he bailed me out of a jam so I felt I owed him. If showing up at his Death Day pleases the specter I think I'm off the hook rather easily."

The screeching 'music' grows louder as they enter the dungeon. Food is on display; rotten, maggot ridden and moldy. Harry waves across the room at Nick as he floats quickly their way. "Harry!"

"Sir Nicholas, may I introduce two of my classmates; Jason Vaisey and Hermione Granger." With pleasantries aside, Harry looks around the room as heads turn in their direction. One very distinctive ghost frowns severely showing his disapproval before leaving. Harry sighs, "I see the Bloody Baron made an appearance."

"Yes!" Nick's eyes shift quickly around the room before he lets out an audible sigh of relief. "I thought he'd never leave though. He was angry with me for involving Peeves, but really what-"

Cutting off his own ranting, Nick turns quickly towards the far wall with a groan. Harry watches the same wall with confusion, "Is something wrong?"

"They're here." Nick turns towards Harry with a pensive grimace. "How do I look?"

"I-"

Harry didn't get to answer, which was probably a good thing since 'dreadful' was his honest response if he had the chance to give it. The sound growing nearer was almost deafening, the hooves of the advancing steeds drowned out all thought. Through the far wall came spectral horses with headless riders, each casually carrying their head under an arm.

The headless huntsmen were quite the spectacle. Harry manages to greet several key ghosts per Nick's wishes before edging his way back towards Jason and Hermione. The two had stayed closer to the door and huddled for warmth. As soon as Harry made it back to them, they made a quick escape.

"That was brutal." Jason shudders. "I was hungry when we arrived but seeing that food…"

"Did…" Harry peers around with a soft shudder. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jason looks around as well, only not knowing what he is looking for. Hermione didn't respond verbally, simply biting her lip while shaking her head.

"That's twice now." Harry moves closer to the wall, touching it gently. "Last night I swear I heard something, too. Never mind. Let's go."

At the Entrance Hall, Harry runs his fingers through his hair. "I think we missed the feast. Did you want to head to the kitchen for something to eat before heading upstairs?"

Hermione wrinkles her pert nose and shakes her head, "After what we saw in there, I think I'll pass."

"Can't say I blame you." Jason smirks and the three are off again. It was once they were nearing the moving staircase that Jason asks what the two have wanted an answer to. "So what did you hear, Potter?"

"Not sure, just a distant voice, male, whispering almost…" Harry shakes his head, "never mind, I know you don't believe me."

"I never said that." Jason is quick to dispel Harry's thoughts of disbelief. "After what we went through last year, I'm the last person to doubt the weirdness that happens at this school."

"I have to agree, Harry." Hermione smiles up at him. "Weird things happen to be drawn to you."

"Hey!" Jason nudges Hermione playfully as Harry laughs. "Speak for yourself, Granger."

"What?" Hermione blinks in her confusion but Harry's laughter drops quickly as does his smile. He's pressed to the wall again, listening intently. "Harry?"

"It's moving." Harry hustles down the corridor, pausing every so often to listen to the voice until his steps falter. "It's… it's gone."

"Harry?" Hermione's emotionally choked voice is small, frightened and immediately catches Harry's attention. He spins around to see what has her so agitated.

"What…" Harry's question is dropped into silence as he takes in the sight before them; words written in blood are ominous but it is the odd still figure hanging on display that has his morbid curiosity piqued. There is something familiar about the form precariously dangling.

"Don't touch it, Potter." Jason is at his elbow as they peer at it.

"Mrs. Norris?"

"Harry…"

Harry turns towards Hermione, the question in his eyes vanishes upon seeing the others heading their way. He clears his throat catching Jason's attention who turns in time to hear Draco recite. "Enemies of the Heir, beware." Draco sneers with malicious glee, "You'll be next, mudbloods!"

He met Draco's questioning gaze without recoil or blinking, Harry held his emotions in check but felt every eye in the hallway upon him and Jason. It was Mr. Filch's outcry that finally broke the standoff. "What is going… M-Mrs. Norris? M-my cat." Harry is forcibly shaken by the distraught man's accusations. "You killed my cat! I'll kill you!"

"Argus!"

The commanding voice broke through everyone's thoughts, demanding their full attention. Harry blinks as the realization comes to him, the hall is filled with spectators. Students and professors gape at the scene playing out before them. Thanks to Mr. Filch's screeching accusations, every set of eyes eventually drift toward Harry where he reads a range of emotions from doubt to fascination to fear.

With his usual calm demeanor, Professor Dumbledore takes control of the situation, removing Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. "Students are to return to their common rooms. Except…" He pointedly looks at Harry, Jason and Hermione over his half moon glasses, "you three; Mr. Vaisey, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger."

"You can use my office, Headmaster. It is nearest, just up the-"

"Yes, thank you, Gilderoy." Professor Dumbledore marches off followed by a small parade of the three students, Mr. Filch, and four professors: McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Lockhart.

Within Professor Lockhart's office, Professor Dumbledore gently sets Mrs. Norris down on the desk. Professor Lockhart regales the captive audience with his thoughts as Professor Dumbledore waves his wand and recites incantations with no apparent effect.

Harry distances himself from Mr. Filch. The man's fury, pain and desire for vengeance is tangible, making Harry very uncomfortable. Professor Dumbledore notes Harry's movement with a twinkling amused glint, "Argus, calm yourself."

"I want justice! He killed my cat." Mr. Filch is distraught and shaking with emotion, staring at Mrs. Norris.

"Your cat is not dead, Argus." Professor Dumbledore peers at the imobile feline, ignoring the man's accusation. "She is petrified."

Professor Lockhart strolls confidently forward with a hint of a swagger in his step, "Ah, just as I thought." He stares intently at Mrs. Norris, missing the exchanged look of disbelief between the other three professors. "Shame I wasn't here, I know _just _the counter-curse that could have saved her."

Professor Dumbledore hides his amusement, ignoring Professor Lockhart's boast, working to appease Mr. Filch's desire for retribution. "No need to fret, Argus. Professor Sprout has a lovely crop of Mandrakes. Once they mature, a potion will be brewed and she will be back to normal."

"Oh, I can-"

"_I_ am the Potions Master here." Professor Snape interrupts. Professor Lockhart blinks closing his mouth with an audible snap as gleaming white teeth click together.

"What about him?" Mr. Filch points a thumb in the students' direction. "Someone needs to pay for this! Someone needs to be _punished_!"

Professor Flitwick harrumphs, "No second year could possibly do such Dark Magic as-"

"He knows…" Mr. Filch's words are choked as he points an accusing gnarled finger at Harry, "He knows I'm a squib."

"Headmaster, if I may," Professor Snape immediately steps forward, his eyes peering at Mr. Filch who takes an instinctive step back. "Perhaps they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. As advanced as my students are, neither of them would be capable of petrifying Mrs. Norris." Professor Snape's eyes flick towards Hermione, who bites her bottom lip before dropping her gaze. "As for Miss Granger, she hasn't the temperament."

"However…" Professor McGonagall interrupts, "I don't recall seeing any of them at dinner tonight."

The staff await their response, Jason clears his throat before speaking up. "That is true, Professor. We attended Sir Nicholas' Death Day in the dungeons. It was getting late and we thought it best to escort Miss Granger safely to Ravenclaw tower."

A glint of humor sparks momentarily in Professor Snape's eyes before turning towards Professor McGonagall, "Sir Nicholas is _your _resident ghost is he not? Perhaps you can confer with the spectre to verify their whereabouts this evening."

The twitch of Professor McGonagall's lips are mocking but at least not angry. "Yet they don't exactly serve food edible by anyone living at these Death Day celebrations."

Hermione shudders, her face scrunches as she agrees, "That is unfortunately very true, Professor. It was so disgusting I completely lost my appetite." Harry takes a small relieved breath while patting Hermione's shoulder in understanding.

Professor Dumbledore waves off further discussion, "Mr. Vaisey, Mr. Potter, continue to escort Miss Granger to Ravenclaw tower before heading directly to the dungeons."

The hard glint in those obsidian eyes of Professor Snape gives Harry quite a shiver down his spine. Seeing this look from his Head of House, Harry isn't about to question anything further even though one question is begging to be asked. Without much comment, Harry simply nods with a soft, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione's voice is deceptively calm. Jason can feel her trembling under everyone's gaze when he pulls her along with them.

As they exit the office, they hear Professor McGonagall ask the question Harry wants answered. "Albus, do you really think the chamber has been opened?"

The three students stop in their tracks to hear the response but the door closes and all further sound is lost within. The three walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It isn't until they reach Ravenclaw tower that Harry runs his fingers through his hair, casting a sidelong look at his friends. "Should I have told them about the voice?"

Jason shakes his head, "No, hearing voices isn't something you-"

He cuts his sentence when he sees a first year Ravenclaw strolling past seemingly gliding along the stone floor. Her waist-length, wavy, dirty blonde hair is tied back, huge doe eyes give her a permanently surprised look, her soft sing-song voice is gentle and Harry would have sworn the girl is a bit touched in the head if it wasn't for her sharp piercing blue eyes that hold his emerald gaze with unwavering surety. "Hello Hermione, hello Hermione's friends."

"Hi Luna." Hermione smiles sweetly at her, Harry and Jason mumble greetings. Hermione watches as Luna Lovegood moves past them before turning her attention back to Harry and Jason. "Dumbledore may have believed you but the others?" Hermione shrugs a shoulder, "It's hard to tell."

"Where is she going?" Jason peers at Luna just down the hall.

"To the Ravenclaw tower." Hermione tilts her head, "Why?"

"Then what's this portrait we keep walking you to?" Harry stares up at the smirking man in the portrait.

"I have no idea, Harry." Hermione giggles and points at Luna speaking with an eagle brass knocker. "That is the entrance to Ravenclaw's common room."

"Well if I didn't feel dumb earlier, I sure do now." Harry stares up at the portrait of the now chuckling man. "You're not helping."

Jason leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "So the man is a squib. Hmm, might explain Filch's attitude."

"What is a squib any way?" Harry leans his shoulder against the wall beside the portrait.

"Simply put, it's the opposite of me." Hermione tilts her head, worrying her bottom lip as she ponders the explanation. "Someone born to magical parents who can't do magic. It's rather tragic, really."

"So we have a squib, a secret chamber, an heir and a petrified cat." Harry sighs, "Just another year at Hogwarts."


	22. History, Legend and Myth

**History, Legend and Myth**

Harry rounds the corner to the Library and is almost plowed over by a fellow student. "Oh, pardon." Harry mumbles an apology that is barely acknowledged by the other. Harry stares at the retreating back of a skittish Hufflepuff and rolls his eyes in exasperation.

"You're not done yet, Vaisey?" Jason growls in frustration in response to Harry's question, dipping his quill in ink and furiously scrawls a few more words. Harry sinks into a chair across the table from Jason. "Where's Granger?"

Jason continues to ignore Harry, quill poised over parchment, and a blank stare on his face.

"Hi, Harry." Hermione drops in a chair beside Jason, plucks his parchment while he continues to stare vacantly at it and measures it for him. "You're two inches short. That won't please him."

"That sounds like a personal problem." Harry snorts and looks away quickly hiding his amusement, or, more accurately, attempting to hide it behind his hand.

"Hey! _Again_ with the abuse?" Jason stares in amused horror at Hermione.

"What? What did I say?" Hermione blinks in confusion, stares at Harry and points at Jason's red face from laughing. "What's wrong with Jason?"

"You really don't want to know, Granger." Harry snickers, focusing his attention on folding his hands in front of him.

"You boys are so weird." Harry nods, agreeing with her and Hermione finally shakes her head. "Well, anyway, I can't find the book I want."

Jason is finally back in control of his faculties and starts to pack up his belongings, "What book is that?"

"_Hogwarts, A History_. I left my copy at home. I wanted to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione waved a vague hand around the library, "just like the rest of the school apparently. There is a two week waiting list for it."

"Too many folks are reading about it now. I'm getting weird looks again." Harry looks around the library noting all the odd looks, hushed whispers and sighs heavily. "Come on, Vaisey, we'll be late for class. Talk to you later, Granger."

Jason catches up to Harry as they exit the library. Both boys show no emotion, walk confidently towards their next class and stare down anyone who crosses their path. Once they arrive in their History of Magic class, Harry slips into his seat beside Blaise. "You're late."

"Am not," Harry smirks, "this isn't potions. I'm right on time."

Blaise chuckles and gets comfortable. "I wish he'd just get started, I'm ready for a nap."

"As if _you'd _be caught napping in class?" Harry challenges Blaise.

"Meditating is a form of napping, Potter." Blaise retorts completely in control of his faculties.

Harry tsks ready for a change in subject, sets a clean parchment before him and dips his quill in ink. "Who do you think is the heir?"

"I hadn't thought much about it, really. I doubt it would be a first year," Blaise looks at his fellow Slytherins in various stages of bored stupor while Professor Binns drones on. "Maybe it's someone from within our year."

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Harper, Nott, Urquhart," Harry writes names as he recites.

"You're assuming it is a boy, the heir could very well be a girl. Davis, Bulstrode, Greengrass, Parkinson, Lympsham or someone older like Flint, he's bloody evil enough." Blaise sits forward reading Harry's parchment.

"Heir not heiress," Harry points out.

"Yes but most say heir regardless of male or female when gender is unknown."

"Hmm…"

"Excuse me, Professor Binns?" A voice breaks through the monotone droning of the instructor, catching the ghost utterly off guard.

Professor Binns pauses giving the room a moment of complete silence. No one has ever asked a question in class before and all students are now curious. "Uh, yes…" Professor Binns looks at a page in front of him before looking questioningly at the boy, "Mr. Nut?"

"Nott, sir." Theodore sits up straighter as a few bold or stupid Hufflepuffs, depending on whom you ask, snicker earning each of them a glare from the Slytherins. "Could you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?"

This question gains everyone's attention and all eyes are now focused on Professor Binns. The professor bristles, "I teach history, Mr. Nah. I relate _facts_, not myths and legends."

"Yes, sir, but most legends are _based_ on fact. Are they not?" Theodore isn't letting the topic go just yet. Harry could feel a grin pulling at him as he looked down the room at Theodore and Jason's table.

Professor Binns frowns, unsure of how to move forward. Students hanging on every word, every movement, the attention is rather unnerving. "Oh…" Professor Binns looks around at the faces of his students, "I suppose…" he hedges before relenting. "Very well."

"Hogwarts was founded by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They each represented an aspect of personality that they wanted to bring out in new students." Professor Binns frowns deeper as students nod in encouragement. "However, shortly after founding the school, there was a falling out between the founders over blood purity.

"Salazar Slytherin wanted to admit only pure-blood students, the other Hogwarts founders disagreed. As the other Founders were against him in this matter, he left the school but not before secretly building the Chamber of Secrets." Professor Binns folds his arms across his chest, a sardonic sneer on his face.

"According to legend, when his own true heir, the Heir of Slytherin, returned to the school, he or she would be able to open the Chamber, and purge the school of all Muggle-born students." Professor Binns scoffs. "Utter nonsense, there is no chamber."

"What's inside the Chamber?" Susan Bones subconsciously tugs her long red braid.

"Well, Miss Bohn, they say the Chamber is home to a beast, allegedly a monster that only his heir can control." Professor Binns states clearly, oblivious to the fear in several of the Hufflepuff students. "The Chamber doesn't exist."

"How can you be sure?" Justin Finch-Fletchey was wide eyed and trembling. Justin is the student that Harry ran into, quite literally, near the library.

Professor Binns harrumphs, "Each headmaster has searched for it and if the likes of Headmaster Dumbledore-"

"But Professor Dumbledore isn't the heir so how could he-"

"That's enough, Mr. Fitchery!" Professor Binns snorts, "It is a legend. A myth. The Chamber of Secrets does _not_ exist."

* * *

Talk of the Chamber and its monster spreads quickly. The classrooms, common rooms and hallways are buzzing with rumors and possible candidates. Harry pauses at the Great Hall doorway, debating on how hungry he is. Hermione bites her lip, Jason waits impatiently and Blaise strolls up with the latest news, "You're the front runner for heir."

"Meaning?" Harry leans against the frame.

Blaise nods politely to the two Ravenclaws girls walking by, Padma and Sara give small tentative waves back before giggling all the way to their table. Harry sighs while waiting for Blaise to continue, "Meaning there is a wager going around and the odds are on you."

"I suppose I could be. The only family I have knows nothing about the Potter side of my family tree. Thing is," Harry smirks, "I didn't open the Chamber."

"Guess what?" Alia calls out as she bounds over to the four. She bounces on the balls of her feet, grabs Harry's arm and tugs on it excitedly, a huge grin plastered on her face while her best friend and freckled shadow, Ginevra, steals glances at Jason. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?"

Harry sighs again, "I'm not the heir."

"Aw, but it would have been so wicked." Alia stops bouncing, blinks and stares at Hermione as what she said sinks in, "Sorry, Granger. I just mean that one of my brother's friends that stayed at _my_ house could be-" Harry grunts disapprovingly at Alia and she pouts. "Okay, but it really, _really_ would have been wicked."

"Al," Jason peers at his little sister, "you didn't make a wager did you?"

"Nooooo…" Alia grabs Ginerva's arm pulling her along quickly and the small gathering of second years laugh.

"Dinner is starting." Hermione, Jason and Blaise move towards the tables, Blaise raises an eyebrow and Harry begrudgingly follows.

While the food is as delicious and mouthwatering as always, Harry finds his appetite isn't up to par. He only manages to eat half of his dinner before pushing it away. Thoughts of leaving immediately before anyone else is finished are starting to look appealing. Unfortunately, Harry hadn't made his escape soon enough as three Ravenclaws scurry across the Great Hall directly towards him.

"So we were talking," Hermione receives numerous odd and hateful looks as she takes a seat at the Slytherin table beside Harry. The other two girls, Padma and Sara, have the decency to blush and drop their gaze as they stand behind her. Utterly oblivious to the looks she's receiving Hermione continues, "We think Malfoy is the more likely candidate for heir."

Harry schools his reaction of annoyance and manages to stifle his sigh that begs to be released. "What are you doing, Granger?"

"Talking to my best friend," Hermione gives him a distinct 'duh' look as if she can't fathom why he'd ask such an obvious question.

Blaise successfully keeps from choking on this pumpkin juice, sets it down and dries his lips with a napkin before addressing the oblivious. "Granger, you're sitting among Slytherins at their table accusing one of their own to be something vile and all this within earshot of the accused."

"But you told Harry-"

"What you heard was one Slytherin speaking with another about a rumor not an accusation." Blaise smirks as Hermione squirms suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

All three Ravenclaw girls have bemused looks as they stare at the others at the long table. "Oh," Padma blushes deeper and hesitantly takes a step back, "Bad timing, Hermione." With a look of minor despair, her gaze meets Blaise's and he grins.

"We should probably take this to the library, _anywhere _but here." Blaise stands from the table as an apple flies past straight at Harry's head, which Harry catches with practiced ease. Hermione lets out a squeak of surprise almost tumbling from her seat as she rises. Without missing a step nor waiting to see if anyone is following, Blaise continues out of the Great Hall.

"Oy! Potter, Vaisey, meeting in thirty." Marcus growls at them and glares at the girls.

"We'll be there." Jason pushes away from the table, moving with purpose towards the door with three Ravenclaw girls quickly scampering along behind him and a reluctant Harry bringing up the rear.

Blaise is standing near the tall House hourglasses in the Entrance Hall, hands stuffed in his pockets as the others catch up to him before he starts in on Hermione, "Granger, for someone who is _supposed _to be smart, you're pretty stupid."

"Zabini." Harry sighs at the glare of warning from Blaise.

"No, not this time." Blaise takes a calming breath. "Forget the fact that Granger announced at our table that the heir is most likely to be Draco Malfoy, a fellow Slytherin. There is no doubt, one of his cronies heard her and it is only a matter of time before word gets back to Malfoy. If by some minor miracle she is right, do you honestly believe Granger isn't now going to be a priority target?"

"You'll be next, mudbloods." Hermione winces at Padma's words, "Sorry, but that is what Malfoy said. Blaise is right. You have to be more careful, Hermione."

Harry snorts, "you didn't exactly stop her from marching over, Patil. You actually followed her." Harry ignores Padma's huff and nudges Hermione who went a touch green. "So what did you want to say anyhow?"

Hermione is quiet at this point while her mind wraps around the gravity of her actions. Harry combs his fingers through his hair as the awkward silence hangs between them. Finally Sara speaks up, rather hesitantly while twisting her fingers nervously, "We kinda came up with a plan to maybe trick Malfoy into admitting he was the heir."

Blaise huffs, "This should be entertaining."

Padma straightens, "It's rather brilliant actually." She boldly meets Blaise's amused look and continues, "Polyjuice potion."

"Polyjuice potion?" Jason smirks shaking his head. "Do you know how to make it?"

"Why does this potion sound familiar?" Blaise frowns at Jason, missing the relief in Harry's eyes for not having asked first.

"Professor Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago. It is said to render the imbiber into another's form, transformation to somebody else." Jason responds before turning his attention back to the Ravenclaw girls. "So, _do _you know how to make it?"

"Well no." Hermione blushes when Blaise harrumphs, "We just need the recipe…"

"And where is this recipe?" Blaise peers at Hermione who turns a new shade of red.

"In the Restricted Section?" Jason folds his arms, shifts his weight and raises an eyebrow.

"Snape said-"

"_Professor_ Snape." Harry quickly corrects Padma who huffs at him again.

"Professor Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente Potions_ and well yes, it probably is in the Restricted Section of the library." Padma gives a small shrug, "We just need permission from a professor."

"I'm still trying to figure out why you want this polyjuice potion and what you are going to do with it once you have it." Harry looks from one Ravenclaw to the next expectantly.

Hermione's voice is so soft, Harry strains to hear her response. "We thought we could change into three Slytherins without anyone knowing it's us. Malfoy would probably tell us without us having to coerce him and-"

"Granger, do you honestly think Malfoy is boasting in the common room that he's the heir?" Blaise laughs at the looks the three Ravenclaw girls have on their faces because yes, that is exactly what they're thinking. "We _are _three Slytherins, and I can assure you he is not boasting about it."

"He wouldn't very well say it in front of Harry now would he?" Hermione's eyes flash with annoyance, but lack the bite of anger as doubt creeps back into her.

"We don't need polyjuice potion, Granger." Harry grins trying to ease the conversation back to a comfortable level. "Malfoy isn't the heir."

"We have a meeting." Jason tugs at Harry's sleeve, "Listen, Granger, your plan is brilliant, but not doable and not necessary. Besides getting a professor to let you in the Restricted Section without telling him why is impossible. None of the professors are complete morons. You'd have better luck getting Peeves to behave civilized."

* * *

**AN:** Updates will slow down a tad since I'm nearly caught up to my writing. RL has a tendency to hamper my hobby.


	23. Slytherin vs Gryffindor

**Slytherin vs. Gryffindor**

All the workouts and having things chucked at his head for a month pays off. Harry is starting beater with Gregory for the first game of quidditch season against Gryffindor, much to the annoyance of Vincent. Although if asked, Vincent would claim he's fine with Marcus' decision. He may be thick headed, but even Vincent Crabbe knows better than to second guess Marcus Flint, Captain and lead Slytherin pain in the ars.

The roar of the crowd overhead is deafening. Harry's stomach is in knots. The odds are against the Slytherins. Four of seven team members are second years and each of them are nearly as green as their uniforms. Gryffindor are all veteran players with the exception of their seeker, Lily Moon.**  
**

"Listen up." Marcus growls, sneering at the boys before him, baring his crooked teeth and every head turns his direction. "We're gonna win this game, we're gonna beat Gryffindor so hard they won't know what hit 'em. Got it? Cuz if you don't, I'm gonna hex you into tomorrah."

Harry peers at the boy that he still swears is half troll and smirks. Marcus isn't much of a speaker but what he lacks in eloquence, he more than makes up for in intimidation. With the 'pep' talk over, the team files out of the locker room and spills onto the field. Hesitating, Harry looks around the pitch. "Remember to keep them off me, Potter."

"Just keep your eye on the snitch, Malfoy." Harry smirks at Malfoy before they both kick off the ground.

The Slytherin House goes wild, cheering, screaming and generally acting very un-Slytherin like as their team soars past in an inverted 'V' formation. At point is their captain, Marcus Flint flying low over his broom. To his immediate left and right are the other two chasers, behind the chasers are the beaters and bringing up the two ends are the keeper and seeker.

Green and silver banners are displayed, the snake prominently poised, waving in the wind as they fly past. Leland Urquhart, keeper, breaks formation first, taking up his position before the rings. Next to make his move is Draco Malfoy, seeker, sweeping forward and upwards to circle above the others. Immediately afterwards, taking their cue, the beaters break to opposite sides of the circle as the three chasers meet with the Gryffindors dead center.

With a firm grip on his bat, Harry grins at the twin nearest him, silently wishing he hadn't gotten them such good brooms. He has heard a lot about the 'unbeatable' Weasley beaters, watched them last year, but now being beside them on the pitch, in the air, at the start of the game, Harry's stomach is knotted in anticipation.**  
**

Harry has seen the start of games, noted Madam Hooch rambling on to the players only he was always in the stands and too far to hear her. Madam Hooch is now rambling about rules, regulations, and other bits n bobs; only Harry lost interest real quick when the nearest Weasley twin moves beside him. "Good luck, Harry."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Weasley." Harry smirks appearing much more confident than he feels. "But if it makes you feel better, good luck to you."

The twin laughs, but the conversation ends quickly as the balls are released and a bludger heads towards Graham. Harry swoops in as Graham veers left out of the way in the direction the quaffle is heading, allowing Harry to bat the bludger towards one of the Gryffindor girls instead.

The game starts in a flurry of movement and Harry is flying fast to intercept the bludger. He's lost sight of the second one, but manages to get ahead of the current bludger to bat it away from Marcus. He's lost track of time, barely hearing the commentary or the cheering. A flash of blond hair catches his attention and he watches for a moment as Draco dives along side of the Gryffindor seeker, Lily. A bludger is streaking after them and Harry dives after it.

"Bludger on your six." Harry yells, unsure if Draco hears him. It isn't Draco's job to care where the bludger is, but right now would be a good time for Draco to pull up out of the dive.

Lily pulls from the dive moments before Draco, both zoom forward across the pitch in a blur of black, red and green. Harry follows the bludger, the bludger bounces and heads towards him. Harry quickly pulls up, rolls and feints, dodging the bludger by inches before the bat connects and he's almost thrown from his broom.**  
**

Catching his breath, Harry pushes on and sees Gregory heading after one of the bludgers. Harry looks around quickly, four catchers zooming towards him and the second bludger is nowhere in sight. Harry quickly drops out of the way of the chasers, eyes frantically searching for the bludger when a Weasley zooms past laughing.

Panic seizes his stomach, if a Weasley is laughing then something is about to happen, so Harry zips forward as the second bludger follows the twin trying to unseat him. Harry smirks and pushes off after them only his broom decides not to allow him. Harry lurches forward tightening his grip on his broom. "What the..."

Harry pushes off again, urging the broom forward and it lurches backward almost unseating him. The broom drops from the air, Harry along with it. It feels as if all magic in the broom simply stopped existing as the green grass of the pitch rises to meet him at an alarming rate.

"Potter! What-" Gregory stops yelling as a bludger zooms towards them. He beats it away as Harry's broom stills at last.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Get back in the game." Harry nods at Gregory who frowns before speeding away. Last thing they can afford is both beaters distracted, one is bad enough.

Only Harry's troubles aren't over. His broom lurches again. Jerking forward and backward then left to right bucking randomly trying to unseat him. Harry almost loses his bat as well as his grip. The ground is coming up fast once more and Harry kicks off once again, this time his broom manages a semblance of control.**  
**

His broom stutters once again and Harry growls fighting for control. Somewhere in the distance, Harry can hear yelling, hollering, cheering and commentary but none of it makes sense as the blood rushes in his ears as the broom drops him once again unseating him at last.

Harry hangs with one hand as the broom jerks left and right. At last Harry drops his bat and swings his body trying to grasp the broom with two hands missing with a brush of fingertips. Another flash of blond and redhead are on the move and Harry manages to grip his broom with both hands. A bludger flashes towards him and Harry has enough time to blink before impact.

Crying out in pain, Harry's first thought is if only... if only he hadn't let go of his bat, if only he hadn't grabbed that blasted broom. The bones in his right wrist are shattered and thoughts of grabbing hold of the broom are gone. Pain sears through him and his grip with his left fails him.

Falling is not the same as flying. Harry prefers flying if given the choice. Thoughts of life, things he would have enjoyed possibly before dying come to mind. He never had a kiss. He never fancied a girl or had one fancy him. His first game of quidditch, well it would have been nice to win. Or they may still win but it would definitely been nice to have seen them win.

Landing isn't nearly as painful as he'd expects. Sure the twisting body, the hard grass, unyielding packed earth beneath him but that isn't all he hits. On Harry's way down, the seekers were flying past with the snitch merely inches before outstretched hands. Had it not been for Lily and Draco, Harry would have been much more injured. If it weren't for Harry, Draco wouldn't have been injured but he also would have missed the snitch, maybe.

Harry manages to open his eyes and watches as his broom falls directly towards his head. "Bugger," Harry holds his broken wrist to his chest and rolls away, pulling Draco with him.

"Bloody git, you do remember we're on the same team?" Draco growls ignoring the broom as it lands where they were just lying.

"Just tell me you got the snitch, Malfoy." Harry practically pleads with him and Draco smirks holding the snitch out before him. The commentator calls outconfirming Slytherin's win against Gryffindor. "Brilliant."

Draco laughs and winces, pushing away from Harry with effort. "I wasn't lying when I said I'd make a better seeker than Higgs."

"Stand back!" Harry and Draco look up quickly as Professor Lockhart makes his way to Harry's side.

Draco smirks openly and does as he is bid by standing back. Harry groans, "No, Professor, really it isn't necessary. Madam Pomfrey-"

"Nonsense, boy. I'll have you good as new in no time." Professor Lockhart had his wand out before Harry could object again and by the time he spoke it was too late. The damage was done and Harry could only stare in horrified fascination as his arm flopped in Professor Lockhart's grip.

"Well the pain stopped." Draco is still openly smirking at Harry, ignoring the glare the boy sends his way.

"Ah, yes, well sometimes these things, er... happen." Professor Lockhart quickly stows his wand and stands up, making vague gestures with his hands. "Point is, his bones are no longer broken. Take Mr. Potter to the infirmary."

Harry can't believe his ears. "Broken? I'd have to have bones in order for them to be..." There was no use continuing his tirade as the professor in question vanished in the crowd.**  
**

* * *

**The entire Slytherin team, Pansy Parkinson, Jason and Blaise are in the hospital ward. Madam Pomfrey is beside herself with anger, muttering about incompetence and some other things that Harry tunes out. Draco groans, Pansy hovers and Madam Pomfrey tuts, "You're not going to die, Mr. Malfoy."**

Harry smirks at Draco who simply pouts at an accommodating Pansy. She quickly clutches Draco's head to her chest, cooing at him, brushing his hair back with her fingers while he nuzzles, suitably 'comforted'.

Gregory picks up Harry's right hand by a finger, bending it back in an unnatural position. "Nothing?"**  
**

"Nope." Harry snorts in amusement when Gregory pulls a face. "The man is a gormless waste of space."

Jason and Blaise stand on the opposite side of the team, beside Harry's bed only to move towards the foot of the bed as Madam Pomfrey takes up their previous position. "I can mend bones in seconds..." Madam Pomfrey is still fussing over the Lockhart debacle. "Growing them back..." She sighs and shakes her head still tutting.

"You can grow them back, can't you?" Jason grimaces at the severe glare thrown his way by Madam Pomfrey.

"Well of course I can, it is simply a long and painful process." A thick glop of medicine settles at the bottom of a glass that Madam Pomfrey hands to Harry. "You will have to stay the night."

Hospital pajamas are dropped at the foot of his bed before Madam Pomfrey walks away. Harry sighs setting the glass of Skele-Gro aside, "Give a bloke a hand?" He lifts his boneless arm and flaps his hand once gaining snickers and laughter from his House mates.

Harry pushes off the bed, awkwardly gaining some semblance of balance. Blaise folds his arms before him while Jason helps Harry off with his pads, gloves and shirt. Jason sighs as he pulls Harry's boots off, "You owe me for this, Potter."

It isn't until Jason starts on Harry's belt that he remembers Pansy is in the room because she giggles. Harry smirks over his shoulder at Draco covering Pansy's eyes. Blaise pulls the curtain to give Harry privacy just as Vincent makes his way into the infirmary. "Everyone is celebrating in the common room."

Harry chuckles when he hears the clinking of glass, "You're a hero, Malfoy."

"What happened out there, Potter?" The Slytherins won the game, but Harry's 'antics' are now under question. As much as Harry would like to avoid the question, ignoring Marcus is suicide. Besides it may distract his mind from the fact that Jason is helping him take off his pants.

Sighing Harry struggles into the pajama bottoms, "No idea really. My broom just refused to move like it should. Then it tried bucking me and a few times I swear I was dropping like dead weight."**  
**

"You were, Mr. Potter."

"Professor," Harry's eyes widen as he looks over his shoulder at Professor Snape.

Marcus ignores Professor Snape and sneers, "Crabbe is starting next game. You aren't playing until you can control that broom, Potter."

Harry closes his eyes with a sigh. There is no arguing with Marcus, so he nods once and crawls back onto the bed once Jason finished buttoning the top. "Right."

Blaise hands a butterbeer to Jason leaving Harry with his Skele-Gro to drink. Professor Snape moves between the beds, pushing the curtain open and takes Harry's hand bending the rubbery flesh back before releasing it to flap idly in place. "The man truly is incompetent."

The team snickers, Harry tries not to flinch as he meets the professor's gaze. "Still, congratulations are in order, Mr. Malfoy managed to catch the snitch."

"Even with Potter using me as a cushion." Draco smirks at Potter and Harry groans lying his head back on the pillow.

"Yes, be that as it may, everyone back to the common room. Mr. Potter you must drink every bit of that." Professor Snape points to the glass on the tray.

Harry gags on the Skele-Gro waving the glass before him. Jason nabs it from his grasp and sets it back on the tray. Jason tries not to laugh at him. "Bad?"

"Vile!" Harry chokes out through tears, gasping and sputtering.

"Out, out, everyone out, Mr. Potter has thirty-three bones to grow. He needs rest now, out!" Madam Pomfrey shoos everyone from the room before standing beside Draco. "You're free to go when you're done sulking, Mr. Malfoy. If you hurry you won't miss your celebration."

Professor Snape smirks at Draco who in turn gratefully hops off the hospital bed, "Good night, Professor. Later, Potter."

"Have a butterbeer for me, Malfoy." Harry watches as Draco leaves; Professor Snape turns to leave. "Sir?"

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape's attention is brought back to the boy.

"You said I did drop a few times. Any idea what would cause my broom to act that way?" Harry tries desperately to drink that goop again but only manages a few tiny nips at it and sets it aside again.

"If I had to give a theory as to your broom's condition, I would say your broom was jinxed. Although brooms in general are warded against tampering and it takes a strong magic, old magic, usually dark magic in order to cause a disruption such as that." Professor Snape nods towards the glass of Skele-Gro, "Be sure to finish that, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir. Good night, Professor." Harry grimaces and takes another small sip.


	24. Dobby

**Dobby**

Something disturbs his sleep, something other than the all pain along his arm. The twinges start from his shoulder traveling to the tips of his fingers; the pinching, stabbing, throbbing ache and the itching was enough to make him want to scream with frustration. His eyes blink a time or two before his hand shoots out towards his glasses. Something is there or someone, either way, Harry isn't alone.

Sitting up, Harry slips on his glasses and looks around. He peers into the semi darkness, about to call out to whoever is there, only to jump in surprise at the large head with floppy bat like ears and huge saucer green eyes staring at him from Harry's bedside. "Harry Potter lives!"

"Dobby." Clutching his chest as his heart beats rapidly, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Harry tries to calm his breathing. "Were you here all this time?"

"Dobby watches over Harry Potter. Dobby had hoped Harry Potter would stay home. Dobby warned Harry Potter, sir." Dobby clambers up the blankets and stands at the foot of the bed wringing his pillowcase clothes in his long slender fingers. "When Harry Potter missed the train, Dobby hoped-"

"What? How did you know about the train?" Harry's heart is hammering away again, only this time not from fear, but from anger. The memory of Dobby banging his head against the dresser at the Dursley home springs to mind as Harry's rage battles within him and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Dobby, what did you do?"

"Dobby only wants to _protect _Harry Potter!" Dobby whimpers and edges away from Harry. Harry awkwardly grabs hold of Dobby's pillowcase with his left hand and brings him closer. "Dobby watched Harry Potter talking with friends and when Harry Potter reached the barrier, Dobby closed it!" Dobby winces in fear closing his eyes tightly in anticipation. "Dobby ironed his hands, but it was worth it if it keeps Harry Potter safe, sir."

Harry sighs heavily and drops his hand releasing his grip on the house elf. "I didn't realize you could do that."

Dobby blinks his large green eyes in surprise when he isn't beaten and cries loudly. "Harry Potter is so kind not to hurt poor Dobby, sir. So gracious is Harry Potter, so-"

Glancing around, Harry feels uncomfortable with the house elf's antics. Blaise's family have house elves but neither Cari or Ino act this way. "Dobby stop it," Harry hisses at the house elf. Dobby blows his nose on a corner of his pillowcase, "That's disgusting. How can you wear that thing?"

"It is the uniform of the house elf, sir," Dobby stands proudly before Harry and all Harry could think to do is nod in understanding. Dobby seems rather proud of his state of dress, adding to Harry's confusion. Cari and Ino aren't in clothes per say but at least they're clean. "Dobby is not given regular clothes, not even a _sock, _for that would _free _Dobby."

He watches Dobby as he explains it and wonders if that shudder at the end was fear of freedom or his enslavement. While he may be curious about Dobby's predicament, Harry is more curious about what other stunts this particular house elf has been up to, "What else have you done, Dobby?"

"Done, sir? I have done nothing but try and protect Harry Potter. I had hoped when Dobby's spell on Harry Potter's broom-"

"You did that, too?" Again Dobby winces, eyes closed tightly in anticipation, but he doesn't scramble away. Harry sighs heavily and lies back against his pillow. "Why are you trying to kill me, Dobby?"

"Kill? No, no, no, Dobby doesn't want to kill Harry Potter, maim or severely injure-" Dobby winces when Harry growls. "Harry Potter _must _go home! It is not safe here at Hogwarts, sir."

"You've seen my uncle and aunt, Dobby. 'Home' isn't exactly safe for me either." Harry slowly moves his injured arm, wincing as a sharp pains shoots from his elbow to his fingertips.

"Safer in Little Whinging than Hogwarts, sir. Dark days, dark magics, history repeats itself and the Chamber is reopened-"

Bright emerald eyes stare unblinkingly at large green saucer sized eyes and Dobby groans as if in pain, "What do you mean? Was the Chamber opened before?"

"Bad Dobby!" Dobby grabs the nearest hard object, which happens to be the bottle of _Skele-Gro_, and begins beating himself over the head repeatedly chanting, "Bad Dobby, bad, bad Dobby!"

"Don't use that, it's expensive." Harry wrestles the bottle from Dobby's hands. Only Harry isn't fast enough to stop him a second time and Dobby manages to grab the water jug to strike it against his head before toppling off the bed. Harry smirks at the silly house elf, puts the bottle of medicine on the tray waiting for Dobby to hop back up on the bed. "Hmm, so the Chamber has been opened before. Interesting. Who opened it last time?"

Whimpering loudly, Dobby hands the water jug to Harry before scrambling back on the bed. Harry sets the jug on the tray as Dobby shakes his head so quickly his ears flap loudly, "_No_, don't ask Dobby, Dobby cannot tell Harry Potter. Dobby cannot say. Dobby _mustn't _say. Harry Potter must not be here, sir. Harry Potter must go home where it is safe."

"I'm not muggle-born, I'm not in danger-" Harry sighs as his mind reels, "Granger. Dobby, who opened the Chamber last time? One of my friends is a muggle-born and I-"

"So brave, Harry Potter would risk his life for a friend, sir. So noble, so valiant-"

"Stop, I'm not brave or noble and valiant is definitely going too-"

They both still and listen as footsteps down the hall approach. "Dobby must go!"

"Wait-"

Only it is too late. Dobby vanishes with a pop and Harry quickly lays down as the same footsteps now shuffle into the hospital ward. A familiar voice whispers, "Get Madam Pomfrey."

Professor McGonagall scurries quickly past his bed while Harry watches from the shadows as Professor Dumbledore levitates a statue onto a bed across the room. Harry has a sinking feeling the student shaped form isn't really a statue and closes his eyes when Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey return. A sharp intake of breath is Harry's cue that they are far enough away and Harry opens his eyes, watching the activity across the room.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey leans over, cautiously touching the statue's hand with care.

"There's been another attack." Professor Dumbledore gazes at the still form over his half moon glasses, his usual good nature is solemn. "Minerva found him near the stairs."

"A bunch of grapes were on the floor near him." Professor McGonagall looks over towards Harry and he closes his eyes quickly. "I think he was bringing them to Mr. Potter."

Harry frowns wondering who in their right mind would be wandering around at this time of night to bring him grapes. Grapes? Harry ponders if he's ever shown a remote interest in the fruit while at school. Harry slowly inches his head higher, resting it on his hand for support.

"Petrified?" Madam Pomfrey tsks sadly.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall hisses with a shudder, one hand clutches at her throat, the other wraps around her body.

It isn't until Professor Dumbledore pries the camera from the boy's hands that Harry figures out who the statue boy is. There is only one student that walks around with a camera day in and day out, Harry's number one fan, okay Harry's _only _fan. Harry peers over at the boy, what was his name? Creepy?

Professor Dumbledore turns the camera over and pries the back open. Harry frowns at this action, trying to remember if that ruins the film; maybe magic film is different. "Do you think he got a picture of his assailant?" Professor McGonagall asks, probably a few seconds too late to do the film within the camera any good.

Harry's eyes widen as acrid black smoke wafts from the innards. "Melted." Professor Dumbledore announces as if he already suspected the condition of the film. Maybe he did already know. Harry watches him more carefully. Madam Pomfrey waves the unpleasant odor away.

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall bites her lip, suddenly looking many years older and weary of what Professor Dumbledore will say next.

"It means," Professor Dumbledore looks at everyone in the room, including Harry before continuing, "the Chamber of Secrets is open again."

Madam Pomfrey squeaks in fear, a hand quickly flies to her lips to quiet any further outburst. Professor McGonagall takes an unsteady step back, blindly reaching for Madam Pomfrey for emotional support. "Who… who could have… who would…?"

Harry's stomach is curling in on itself. If he wasn't so shook up he might have found Professor McGonagall's owlish rambling rather amusing. He strains to hear Professor Dumbledore's response, "The question isn't _who_, it is _how_…"

Madam Pomfrey pulls the curtain around creepy-fan-boy and the three adults moved away so there wasn't anything more Harry could learn. He lay back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling as his mind rambles with thoughts. The chamber is real, it is open and the unknown monster is loose.

* * *

The next morning, the sun peeks through the windows and Harry is relieved his new bones are only stiff, not causing more pain. He slips on his glasses to look across the room at the closed curtain where Creepy is.

Harry runs his fingers through his hair absently and thinks about the few things he learned and wonders what to do. He is only twelve, a second year, and after what he put his friends through last year, would they care about this? Hermione would care. She is, after all, a muggle-born. What other students did he know that are muggle-born? None really, as far as Harry knows everyone in Slytherin is either half-blood or pureblood.

Harry struggles into his clean clothes, grateful to have his school uniform rather than the quidditch gear he came in yesterday. "Porridge, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Harry takes the tray and sets it on the side table.

"Once you're properly fed, you may go." Madam Pomfrey smiles at Harry before wandering off to her office in the back, leaving him to fend for himself.

"Yes'm." Harry stares at the porridge and debates on leaving it or eating it. He takes a tentative bite and his stomach growls in appreciation. Taking a seat, Harry continues to eat his breakfast while casting occasional glances at the closed curtain coming to a conclusion at last.

It is while he is on his way down to the dungeons that Harry happens across Hermione leaving the library clutching a book to her chest. He is about to call out but she acts so oddly, Harry decides to follow her instead.

With her head down, Hermione shoots glances nervously around her and hurries down the stairs to the second floor. Harry doesn't hide the fact that he is following along behind her and calls out as she reaches the bathroom door, "Granger?"

Hermione squeaks and spins around, book still clutched to her chest. Her eyes are wide and she is trembling. "Oh, Harry! You gave me such a fright."

Harry doesn't hide his smirk, "You're a horrible sneak, Granger. I saw you leaving the library. What are you up to?"

"Up… to…" Hermione shoots a glance towards the bathroom door and sighs heavily. "Oh come on. I'll show you."

Hesitating only for a moment, Harry slips into the bathroom behind her. "You do realize this is a girl's bathroom."

"Sure it is, but it's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so we're perfectly safe." Hermione makes her way to one of the stalls and opens the door. Inside the stall is a cauldron contently bubbling an awful smelling grey concoction.

Harry wrinkles his nose, "First, who is Moaning Myrtle and second, how can we be perfectly safe and lastly, what is _that_?"

"Boys don't belong in here!" Came a high pitched nasally screech.

"_That_ is Moaning Myrtle." Hermione opens the book she had been carrying and finds what she is looking for, leaving Harry to speak with Myrtle.

"I see, you're Miss Myrtle and this is your bathroom." Harry raises an eyebrow at the indignant ghost. "I'm Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you."

Myrtle is taken aback, she scowls at Harry and floats closer unsure how to react. "You're not going to make fun of me?"

Harry's second eyebrow rises with the first in surprise, "Make fun of you? I don't understand. Why would I do that?"

"Everyone does. They laugh at me because I haunt a toilet." Myrtle floats higher and Harry watches her move closer to her stall. "No one understands me. If they're silly enough to come here, they just complain about my crying. They don't know how lonely it is to be dead. Besides, this is _my _bathroom, so they can just go elsewhere." She rushes forward towards Harry, Myrtle's anger is flaring again and she stops suddenly inches from his face. "You're a _boy_! You don't belong in here."

"You're right. As soon as Miss Granger answers my last question, I'll leave your bathroom." Harry watches the ghost with curiosity and her runaway emotions.

"Oh." Myrtle's anger is gone again. She quickly rises and dives into a nearby toilet leaving Harry even more confused.

"So we're safe because no one comes here, I take it?" Harry leans against the stall door and grimaces at the smell emanating from the cauldron. "Granger, what is that?"

"Polyjuice potion." Hermione gives Harry a sheepish grin. "I just wanted to see if I could."

"How did you manage to get the recipe and ingredients?" Harry eyes her warily. Hermione tries to wave it off as nothing, but Harry smirks and doesn't let her brush the details away so nonchalantly. "Granger, what did you do?"

Running a finger of the text in the book, Hermione gives a small shrug. "Professor Lockhart signed a permission slip for me."

"Did he even know what he was signing?" Harry smirks as Hermione blushes and shakes her head. "Breaking rules, Miss Granger?"

"You're one to talk." Hermione gestures at their surroundings as Harry chuckles. "Then there's the ingredients, most of them I could get from the student supplies in Professor Snape's storeroom but erm…" Hermione bites her lip and looks at the book again before continuing, "Jeremy Stretton has a crush on Sara, she talked him into distracting Professor Snape. Jeremy tossed something into Zacharias Smith's cauldron and-"

"That was you?" Harry laughs, "How many Hufflepuffs got hit with the potion?

Hermione wrinkles her nose, "Half of the Hufflepuffs were affected in some way. Professor Snape was so angry. Poor Zacharias got it worse than anyone, swollen like a balloon; hands, arms, nose. He was a mess."

Harry frowns and crouches beside Hermione, "Listen, last night someone was attacked-"

"Colin Creevey, he's a first year in Gryffindor." Hermione nods and gives Harry a lopsided nervous grin, "I heard Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall talking this morning."

"So that's why you're making this potion?" Harry watches Hermione as a range of emotions crosses her face. Finally she bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. "Then why?"

"I just wanted to try. If I have to leave, I want to learn as much as I can before-" Hermione's voice breaks and she buries her head in her hands. Harry sighs softly and pulls her into his embrace, holding her as she cries softly. "I'm scared, Harry."


	25. Rictusempra!

**Dueling Club**

A small group of students are gathered in the Entrance Hall; Daphne rises on her toes to glance over Draco's shoulder and wave them over. Blaise takes a moment before leading Jason and Harry over to see what the excitement is about. Daphne bats her eyes and coos at Blaise, "There is a Dueling Club starting. I bet you'd be brilliant, Zabini."

Jason smirks while keeping quiet, Harry pushes his glasses up on his nose and Blaise snorts. "I'm sure there are many in this school who would love a chance to face a Slytherin."

Draco, Vincent, Gregory and Pansy are standing off to the side of the notice board along with Daphne. Draco smirks and folds his arms watching as others read the announcement excitedly. "They won't stand a chance against us."

Harry stuffs his hands in his pockets, Jason stops himself from commenting and Blaise peers at Daphne as she slips closer to him. Two more Slytherin girls, Tracey Davis and Scarlett Lympsham, come from the direction of the dungeons. Tracey drags Scarlett over to Pansy and Daphne where the four start giggling, catching the attention of some of the nearby boys, while the Slytherins ignore their antics.

Alia bounces up to them, followed closely by Ginevra as usual. Alia wraps one arm through Jason's and the other through Harry's. "What's going on?"

"A Dueling Club." Jason peers at Alia and puts a stop to any interest she may have in the new activity as quick as he can. "You're too young."

Ginevra reads the parchment posted on the notice board and smirks, "We are not."

"Let her join, Vaisey. She's a Slytherin. She could beat any of those plebeian Gryffindors blindfolded." Draco sneers at Ron and Seamus as they walk up.  
Ron glares at Draco as Seamus reads the announcement and Alia beams at Draco before turning back to Jason. "See? Malfoy has faith in me. You should, too."

Jason's face is unreadable as he stares at his little sister. Ginevra gently tugs at Jason's other arm, trying to defuse the situation, "The professors won't allow first years to duel anyone too much higher than us. You know she'll be safe."

"Wait, you're thinking about joining the dueling club, Ginny?" Ron blinks in surprise at his sister.

"Afraid you'll be beaten by your baby sister, Weasley?" Jason raises an eyebrow suddenly rather amused.

"What? No!" Ron responds quickly, scoffing at the idea.

Ginevra giggles at Ron and stands closer to Jason. "He's afraid of what the twins will say when he loses to me."

Draco moves towards the Great Hall pausing beside Ginevra and glancing at Ron, noting how red his ears are. "Joining this infantile dueling club might be worth it just to see you hex your brother, Weasley."

Vincent and Gregory laugh as they pass Ron. Pansy, Tracey and Scarlett drag Daphne away from Blaise in order to follow Draco. Blaise resists sighing in relief as soon as Daphne enters the Great Hall. Jason rounds on his sister, "Okay Al, I know you'll join the club if Weaselette does. Just don't get hurt or we're both in trouble with Mom."

Alia bounces on her toes grinning, "Thanks, Jay!"

"You're really going to join then?" Ron murmurs at Ginevra.

"Yes and we're going to be brilliant." Alia beams at Ron, grabbing hold of Ginevra and dragging her off to the Great Hall.

Blaise, Jason, Harry, Seamus and Ron follow while Seamus and Ron discuss the merits of the new club. "Could be useful," Ron shrugs at Seamus who grins and nods enthusiastically. The boys part ways at the door to the Great Hall as they all go in for dinner.

As Blaise, Jason and Harry sit at the Slytherin table Harry finally broaches the subject, "Would we have time with all the quidditch practice?"

Jason ponders, "It wouldn't hurt to give it a go. First meeting is tonight at eight and we don't have practice."

With the serving spoon paused mid-scoop, half in-half out of the grilled vegetables, Blaise looks at his friends, "So you're giving this serious thought?"

"Fighting a stinky troll was easy compared to what this could be. Trolls don't cast back." Harry grins and tucks into his favorite meal, shepherd's pie.

"Like I said, it wouldn't hurt to give it a try." Jason pours his milk in the glass and sets the jug down before continuing. "It isn't as if we don't have some experience with stressful situations. We can keep our cool when others panic. We are Slytherin after all."

Blaise sets the serving spoon down when he's finished with it and pushes the vegetable dish towards Jason. "Fine, we'll go and see if its worth our time."

* * *

By the time the three boys enter the Great Hall that evening, the whole room has been changed. Gone are the usual House tables, replaced by a long stage with a draping padded cover, highlighted and centered in the room. The Great Hall is filled with students, more coming behind the three Slytherins. Harry hangs back, watching between Jason and Blaise's shoulders.

"Harry!" Hermione beams at the three, "Hi Jason. Hi Blaise."

"Hey, Granger." Harry glances around at the gathered crowd, Jason grins and Blaise nods his greeting.

"Isn't this exciting?" Hermione bites her lip in wide eyed wonder. "I wonder who will be teaching us. Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion in his younger days!"**  
**

"I suppose it could be anyone, really." Blaise's eyes narrow, "just as long as it isn't-"

Cheers erupt throughout the room, along with groans from many Slytherins, as Professor Lockhart saunters into the spotlight on stage, cloak hanging strategically from one shoulder in a brilliant teal. He waves a gloved hand as he smiles at everyone, "Welcome! Come, gather around. Ah, can you all hear me?" Professor Lockhart turns in a full circle, beaming his blinding smile as he does. "Excellent!"**  
**

"This just became a colossal waste of time." Blaise snorts when Hermione pouts at him and his hasty assessment.

"The Headmaster was kind enough to allow me to start this dueling club, seeing how overly qualified I am, as seen in my works, Magical Me." Professor Lockhart smiles and looks around at all the swooning females. "I will demonstrate how a proper duel is conducted with the aid of Professor Snape." All of the students perk at this announcement. The Slytherins stand taller, filled with pride, while the other students mumble about Professor Snape's possible dismemberment during the duel. "Now, do not fear for him, you will still have your prestigious potions master when I'm through."

Hermione nudges Blaise, "Let me guess, it just got interesting?"

Blaise smirks but concedes, "Yes. You could say that."

Professor Snape moves slowly and deliberately onto the platform stage, his lip curls with distaste for his opponent and the anticipation in the room thickens. "Lockhart is going down." Harry's eyes dance with excitement.

"That's _Professor_ Lockhart." Hermione hisses at Harry.**  
**

"Semenatics, Granger. Down is down. The poser is finished." Harry stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting in excitement.

With an air of superiority Professor Lockhart whips off his cloak, allowing it to fall in a pool of material off to his left. Sauntering into position the blond, grinning professor bows with lavish, overly dramatic movements to which Professor Snape quirks an eyebrow and briefly nods in acknowledgement. Wands out, the two men face each other and Professor Lockhart explains what is about to transpire, "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative positions. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

Snickers and snorts of disbelief can be heard scattered among the students, to which Professor Snape smirks briefly and Professor Lockhart ignores as he begins the countdown, "One. Two. Three."**  
**

Both professors immediately cast, yet it is Professor Snape's cry of "_Expelliarmus_!" that rings out with a flash of red, blasting Professor Lockhart back, off the stage and against the wall with such force it leaves him dazedly sprawled on the floor.

Students scattered around the room applaud enthusiastically and if truth be told, not all cheering is by Slytherins. Hermione gasps nervously and stands on her tiptoes, "Do you think he's all right?"

"Can't say I care, Granger." Blaise shrugs off Hermione's attempt to smack his arm with indignation at his disinterest.

Professor Snape stands patiently as Professor Lockhart stumbles to his feet. Leaning against the wall to get his bearings, Professor Lockhart runs his fingers absently through his hair and straightens his clothes before he attempts to ascend the stage once again. "Yes, well done. That there was a prime example of a disarming charm."

Professor Lockhart pauses as soon as he's on the stage still a bit shaken, "As you can see. I have erm, lost my wand." He glances down and grins, "Ah, yes, thank you Miss Brown." Facing the students with his usual smile in place he continues, "It was clever of Professor Snape to demonstrate that spell, but I must say that it was rather obvious which spell he was going to cast and if I had the mind to do so, I could have blocked..."

Professor Snape's look hardens and the words his competitor was spouting fade quickly and adjusts to safer ground, "So perhaps pairing up now would be an excellent idea." Professor Lockhart quickly motions to the students, "Yes, pick a partner!"

The four friends glance at each other, only before they can pick Professor Snape splits them up. Hermione is partnered with Millicent; Jason finds himself paired with Theodore; Blaise is faced with Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw; Harry is surprised by Draco. Draco smirks at Harry who simply returns the expression.**  
**

"Face your partner and bow." Professor Lockhart is back on stage directing the students from where he presumes is a safe place. Harry and Draco simply nod much in the fashion as Professor Snape had done moments earlier. "Wands at the ready!"

Professor Lockhart strides up and down the stage spouting directions, "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent. We don't want any accidents, be sure to disarm only!"

The mischievous grin on Draco has Harry's stomach in knots, they both have their wands at the ready but Harry wishes he was facing that stinky troll instead. "One. Two. Three!"

Harry isn't sure what Draco cast, he started when Professor Lockhart said 'two' and all Harry could think to do is block. The spell somehow bounced off Harry's shield and hit Millicent. Draco and Harry watch her fly backwards and do their best to stifle their laughter. Draco glances at other pairs before quirking an eyebrow at Harry. Harry's eyes widen as he realizes what Draco silently proposes and shakes his head slowly.

Sighing softly in displeasure, Draco looks pointedly at someone over Harry's shoulder. Full of suspicion, Harry glances in that direction as Draco calls out, "_Tarantallegra_!" Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff starts waving his arms out to his side as his legs begin jerking around out of control in some form of dance steps.

Grinning, Harry looks wide eyed at Draco and quickly looks for another victim, "_Rictusempra_!" Draco watches as a silver streak of light zips past him at Vincent. Draco raises an eyebrow and Harry shrugs, "He took my spot as beater."

Draco chuckles and they watch Vincent double over in uncontrollable laughter. "Nice one."

Professor Lockhart is frantically trying to gain control of the class. "Disarm! I said disarm only! Stop!"

Looking for more victims, Draco and Harry cast Rictusempra at various students until at least a fourth of the room is laughing in hysterics. Harry spots Ron across the hall, waving his hands at some odd smoke, while poor Neville looks rather pained. Draco watches in amusement as Ron yelps from a stinging curse.**  
**

Professor Snape scowls at them and the two quickly face off again trying not to laugh and failing. It is the look of pure mischief in Draco's eyes that has Harry curious. His raised questioning eyebrow is answered with a small nod in their next victim's direction causing Harry to laugh and nod eagerly. Draco gauges Professor Snape's level of distraction before giving the signal, "Now!"

Dual hexes soar while Professor Lockhart cries out for students to stop. Professor Lockhart's piercing yelp as the two hexes slam him is what seals the club's fate. Professor Snape simply takes over shouting the simple command that Jason failed to cast for Neville last year, "_Finite Incantatem_!"

Ernie gains control over his legs again and the rest stop laughing, only that doesn't stop Millicent who has Hermione in a headlock, two abandoned wands at their feet. Harry steps up to them and clears his throat, "Bulstrode, I suggest you stop acting like a Gryffindor before you're resorted."

Millicent glares angrily at Harry with a strangled screech choked in her throat for mocking her. She eyes those around her before releasing Hermione, noting everyone staring at the two of them. Huffing Millicent picks up her wand and stomps away. Hermione plucks her own wand off the floor and trembles as Harry allows her to lean against his side, gripping his robe for support.

Professor Lockhart looks a bit frazzled as he stands up on the stage again. "Perhaps another demonstration showing blocking spells." Looking hesitantly at Professor Snape, Professor Lockhart quickly turns back to the students. "How about two volunteers... Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Finch-Fletchley?"

Scoffing, Professor Snape disagrees with the choices of volunteers. "Mr. Longbottom has trouble with the most simple spells. We don't want to send Mr. Finch-Fletchley to the hospital." Professor Snape grabs two students by their collars keeping his voice low for their ears only, "Since you two decided to have a bit of fun, let's see what you two know, hmm?"

Both Harry and Draco exchange a quick humored glance and mumble a 'yes, sir' as they quickly join Professor Lockhart on the stage. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter will demonstrate." Professor Snape watches his two students carefully and they both nod in agreement.

"Excellent!" Professor Lockhart grabs Harry's upper arm and leads him to one side as Draco stands opposite him. "Just move your wand like so..." Professor Lockhart wiggles his wand in odd movements and drops it to the floor.

Harry raises an eyebrow and smirks, "I see. Dropping my wand will cause a shield or a blocking spell. That is something new. Which book of yours is that covered in, sir?"**  
**

Draco snorts and turns his attention to Professor Snape quietly relaying what just transpired. Professor Snape raises an eyebrow at Harry who has the decency to lower his gaze with a sheepish grin. Professor Lockhart ignores Harry's comments and question and speaks loudly, "Yes, so at the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

Without hesitation Draco cries out, "_Serpensortia_!"

While Harry ignores what Professor Lockhart told him to do and simultaneously casts, "_Protego_!"

Harry pauses and stares in curiosity when black smoke pours from Draco's wand before taking the form of a snake. Tilting his head, Harry watches as the snake rises menacingly before him. Harry smirks at Draco, "Is that the best you can do, Malfoy?"

"Stand back!" Before Harry can stop Professor Lockhart, he mumbles something and points his wand at the snake, causing it to fling at least ten feet straight up in the air before it lands with a thud.

The snake hisses angrily at the professor. "Easy." Harry pushes Professor Lockhart behind him to safety. "This man is no threat to you." Professor Lockhart stumbles back and the snake loses interest. Harry can feel how agitated the snake is and his grip tightens on his wand. "No need to be angry." Its tongue darts out and its head snaps to the left with renewed interest. "I want you to calm down." The snake stares down its prey as Justin Finch-Fletchley freezes in fear. "That boy is weak and you are not in danger." Harry refuses to back down and steps closer crouching to eye level, demanding the snake's obedience. "Enough, look at me."

Hesitating only for a moment the snake's forked tongue darts forward towards Justin again before it turns its attention back to Harry. "I am not weak. And you will obey me." Reluctantly the snake settles at Harry's feet never breaking eye contact with the boy. Harry nods once, still watching the black snake as it coils, casually waiting long enough for Professor Snape to cautiously approach to banish it.

Harry sighs in relief and glances up at Professor Snape. The odd guarded look on Professor Snape confounds Harry. He turns to look at the others as they all gape at him. Slowly Harry looks at Justin, only he doesn't look pleased which confuses Harry further. Harry thought he'd be grateful, instead Justin snaps at him. "What was that for?"

Annoyed with the ungrateful attitude, Harry hops off the stage to stand before Justin and snaps back, "Ungrateful git, maybe next time I won't bother stopping him."


	26. Heir and a Spare

**Heir and a Spare**

"Stupid Finch-Fletchley." Pacing back and forth, stomping a path before the fireplace, Harry is seething and muttering. "What kind of name _is _that anyway? Why can't he just be Finch or Fletchley?"

"Potter?" Blaise tries to gain Harry's attention. Unfortunately, Harry continues to mutter about finches, fletches, renaming him Finchley and pacing so Blaise is forced to try again, much to his annoyance. "Potter!"

Harry stops mid-pace, mid-mutter, still very annoyed and snaps. "_What_!?" Grimacing at the raised eyebrow directed at him, Harry composes himself reining in his anger, "Sorry."

"You never told us you were a parselmouth." Jason drops into the nearest armchair.

"I'm a what?" Harry peers at his friend with a confused look.

"Parselmouth, as in you talk with snakes." Jason raises an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, right. I didn't know that had a name. I've only spoken to one snake before. It was a boa constrictor at the London zoo." Harry waves a hand of indifference, "Long story, not important. Why did that barmy Finchley look at me so weird?"

Blaise snorts, "Because you had been sputtering and hissing at a snake that was intent on biting his head off."

"Well, if it hadn't been for me the snake _would _have bloody well bit him." Harry harrumphs and flops on the sofa.

"You do realize that everyone in the school will be even more convinced you're the Slytherin heir?" Blaise smirks down at his friends. "Or they'll be too busy gossiping about how you made _Finchley_ soil his trousers."

"He did?" Harry laughs when they nod. "Disgusting." Harry closes his eyes and leans his head back. "Sadly, that doesn't make this whole thing any better. I can't be the only parselmouth in school."

"It is quite uncommon, actually, and usually associated with dark wizards, including our very own Salazar Slytherin." Blaise corrects him and takes a seat on the other end of the couch. With an arm draped over the back of the couch, legs crossed casually, Blaise possess more poise than any normal twelve year old should.

Harry opens an eye and looks sideways at Blaise, "I was sputtering and hissing. Really?"

"I'm sure it didn't sound like that to you, but to us non-parselmouth speaking people -as in _normal_," Blaise grins when Harry growls, "people - it sounds much like sputtering and hissing."

"Weird." Harry stares at the ceiling in the common room. "How do I know a whole other language?"

"You're an enigma." Blaise chuckles as Harry rolls his eyes.

The common room begins filling with the other students returning from the Great Hall and Harry closes his eyes knowing questions will be coming soon. "Nice work, Potter." Draco manages not to disappoint Harry, being the first to comment. Draco leans against the arm of Jason's chair with his back to the boy, ankles crossed, he peers curiously at Harry.

"I do what I can to entertain the rabble, Malfoy." Harry sluggishly lifts his head and watches Draco wearily.

"A parselmouth. Potter, you are full of surprises." Draco chuckles darkly and shakes his head. Harry doesn't bother looking around; he can feel all the eyes on him, watching and listening to their conversation. "I'm sure by tomorrow morning I will no longer be considered the Slytherin heir."

Alia plonks down on the sofa between Harry and Blaise, curling her legs under her. Harry grins at her before continuing his conversation with Draco, "Hmm, that won't do. We must keep the peons guessing. I'm sure you'll do something to gain their ire and win back a few votes, Malfoy. Care to learn a few phrases?"

"Ooh, can you really teach us?" Alia's eyes widen excitedly and Harry chuckles before tickling her.

"No idea. I didn't even realize I was…" Harry looks at Blaise, "how did you put it: 'sputtering and hissing'."

Alia slaps his hands away to keep him from tickling her again and harrumphs at Harry. "Well don't offer to teach someone if you can't. You're so mean."

"Okay, so I'm mean. I'm still not the heir." Harry pokes Alia and she rolls her eyes. "Besides, if I'm one of the few that understand parselmouth, I'm sure Malfoy could fake it and no one would be the wiser. What do you say, Malfoy? Should we toy with the rest of the school?"

* * *

By the next morning the thought of apologizing to Justin had crossed Harry's mind… briefly. Perhaps not too briefly since the thought of apologizing managed to linger until lunch when Harry went to see if he could find the boy. Unfortunately that random moment of kindness died while Harry and Blaise overhear a few Hufflepuffs in the library gossiping.

Ernie is giving rather interesting facts and supporting circumstantial evidence to back up his accusations, almost convincing Harry he could very well be the heir. Blaise and Harry glance at each other with a noncommittal shrug on a few points that can't really be argued; only it doesn't stop there.

"Filch got on Potter for something, then his cat is petrified. Creevey wants a picture that Potter refuses and then _he_ is petrified." A spread of enthusiastic murmurs causes Harry's hands to clench into fists. While safely out of sight of the gossiping students, Harry leans his head against the bookshelf with a huff. In his mind, Harry pictures them gathered around a table plotting how to dispose of him. "Susan said that Michael said that Justin said he told Harry that he's a muggle-born and you _saw_ what he tried to do in front of _everybody_!"

That is the last straw; Harry stands rigid, hands clenching, nostrils flaring. He can feel his anger winning out and as a Slytherin that is something he can't allow. Blaise grips his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze and keeps his voice low, "Breathe, Potter. Think before speaking."

Harry nods in understanding. Only before he can move, someone else speaks on his behalf. "You're a gormless prat, Ernie Macmillan!" Blaise and Harry exchange an amused look as Hermione continues. "You spout off rumors and misinformed facts. Harry was nowhere near Mrs. Norris when she was petrified."

He is torn for a moment; should he come out from behind the bookshelf or should he let Hermione have the moment and slip away? "Pfft, you're his girlfriend, of course you'll say that." Ernie poorly retaliates.

"I'm not… ugh! I say he wasn't there because I _know _where he was. We were at a Death Day party for Sir Nicholas in the dungeon. Harry and Jason were walking me back to my common room when we happened across Mrs. Norris." With one hand on her hip, Hermione jabs her finger in Ernie's direction. Slowly Harry slips around the corner from behind the bookshelves in order to watch his friend stand up for him. "Harry was stuck in the infirmary when Creevey was petrified and Creevey is a creepy little-"

"Thank you, Granger." Harry sets his hand on Hermione's shoulder, gently easing her away from Ernie and the gathered Hufflepuffs around the table. Blaise stands back near the bookshelf, leaning against it with his arms crossed and quietly watches the scene play out before him. As soon as Harry feels Hermione relax next to him, he continues. "You don't have to defend me against these cretins. If they are too thick to realize their own mistake, you won't be able to convince them they're wrong."

Ernie sneers at Harry, or tries to, but looks pained in the process. "What mistake?"

Harry grins at Hermione, "He proves my point. He's hopeless."

A hissing sound comes from somewhere behind Harry off towards his left. He looks over his shoulder in surprise meeting the amused grey gaze of Draco. Harry grins at the boy about the same time the whole table of Hufflepuff students jump and scramble from their seats. "Right, as Malfoy so kindly reminded me, we have a Transfiguration class to get to."

* * *

Christmas holiday break is here again. Harry signs up immediately to stay on at Hogwarts, something he intends to do every year until graduation. Less time spent at the Dursley home, the better.

This year Hermione and Blaise are staying behind, while Jason is heading home with Alia. Surprisingly, Draco is staying at Hogwarts, too. Naturally this means both Gregory and Vincent stay as well.

After dinner on the first night of the holiday break, Hermione is bouncing as she pulls Harry up the staircase, "It's done!"

"What's done?" Harry can't help but grin, Hermione's excitement is contagious. Hermione stops suddenly, biting her lip. She looks up and down the hall before yanking him into the girl's bathroom. This isn't just any bathroom, it's Moaning Mrytle's bathroom, which answers Harry's question without Hermione having to say a word. "Ah."

Opening the bathroom stall, Hermione kneels before the cauldron. With a cup in one hand, a ladle in the other, she scoops a dollop of gray goop into the cup while Harry recoils. "You're really going to drink that?"

"Yes!" She hands the cup to Harry. "Hold this please."

It takes everything he can muster of self control not to vomit from the stench. "That's disgusting."

"It's not, it's brilliant!" Hermione beams at him. "I'm going to be Millicent Bulstrode. Remember that dueling fiasco where she was trying to strangle me?"

"Erm, yes." Harry bit back the guilt for the random hex he had deflected towards Millicent which had started that particular confrontation.

Hermione pulls out a small vial with short black hairs. "I managed to get these hairs!"

"Hmm... I hate to tell you this but that isn't her hair." Harry peers at the short hairs in the vial. "Bulstrode has long brown hair but she does have a black cat."

Her eyes widen before she whines. "No, no, no!"

"Problem?" Harry tries to give the cup back to Hermione but she hasn't taken it back yet.

"Yes, the book specifically says this spell is not for animals. If they go through the trouble of saying that, then I can only imagine the repercussions won't be pleasant." Pouting Hermione shows Harry a robe and tie she 'acquired' from the laundry room. "Look I even have a Slytherin tie."

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to regret this somehow."

"Hmm?"

Harry pulls a few hairs from his scalp with a small grimace and drops them into the polyjuice potion. "Drink up, Granger."

"Really?" Hermione's eyes dance with excitement and she grabs the cup before Harry has a chance to change his mind. Hermione takes two sips and gags on the taste.

Taking the cup from her hand before it can fall and shatter, Harry watches as Hermione slaps her hands to her mouth. "That bad?"

She can't speak; she simply nods and whimpers. Harry smirks but tries not to laugh at the faces Hermione pulls. Once the panic sets into her eyes, Harry starts to worry. Hermione clutches his arm, "Harry…"

"Do I need to take you to the infirmary?"

"No, it just… ugh… it hurts." Hermione's hair shortens drastically and darkens to near black. "Oh, ow!"

Hermione kicks off her shoes as her feet lengthen and her skirt is now too short as she grows taller. Harry's eyes widen when the telltale scar appears on her… on his… on Hermione's forehead. Hermione is quickly undoing her skirt and ducking into a stall. Harry moves after her, "What are you doing?"

"My skirt is too tight!"

"Granger?" Harry hisses at the door. "Don't do anything to my body!"

"I wouldn't!" This exclamation is followed by an awkward silence, soon followed by a giggle.

"What are you _doing_ in there?" Harry tries to open the door but Hermione has managed to lock it keeping him out.

"Nothing!" More awkward silence and Harry sighs heavily.

"I told you I'd regret this." Harry sets the cup on the sink before turning and leaning against the cold porcelain. "Come on then, lets see you."

"I need your trousers and glasses. I can't see a thing!"

"My trousers? What's wrong with the ones you nicked?"

"They're not trousers now are they? I need yours or I will go out there in a skirt and make sure Blaise sees me."

"Why did I help you?"

"I don't know; now give me your trousers and glasses, please." Hermione's, or rather Harry's, hand can be seen flailing over the top of the stall door. "Oh, shoes, too."

Grumbling, Harry kicks off his shoes and unfastens his belt when a new giggling voice is added to Hermione's. With a put upon groan, Harry acknowledges the newcomer. "Hello, Myrtle." Hesitating only for a moment he finally pulls off his trousers, much to the delight of Myrtle, who claps happily.

"Nice to _see _you, Harry." Myrtle swoons and Harry rolls his eyes.

He puts his trousers in Hermione's waiting hand and she quickly snatches them to replace her skirt. "Oh, they're nice and warm."

"Granger."

"Okay." Hermione steps out of the stall and waves excitedly. "How do I look?"

"Frightening."

"What?" Hermione rushes to the mirror to peer at her reflection, "You are so blind. Glasses, please."

With a resigned sigh, Harry holds his robe closer around him and hands his doppelganger glasses. "This is so weird."

"No, what's weird is suddenly having something sensitive between your legs that you've never had before and said appendage-"

"Stop! For the love of all that's magic, don't finish whatever it is you were about to say!" Harry is groaning as if in physical pain.

"Two Harrys." Myrtle giggles. "More fun for me."

"I'm glad you're enjoying this, Myrtle." Hermione beams at the ghost and turns quickly to Harry. "Harry, do you still have the cup with the polyjuice potion in it?"

"It's on that sink. Why?" Harry wrinkles his nose as she takes another sip.

"I wasted too much time in here. It only lasts an hour." Hermione slips on Harry's shoes before practically skipping to the door.

"I don't skip!" Harry growls.

"Oh, right." Hermione clears her throat and smoothes down her shirt. "Okay, see you in an hour!"

"Granger!" Only Hermione doesn't stop, leaving Harry alone with Myrtle. "This is so awkward."

"If it makes you feel better," Myrtle floats closer and giggles, "you're welcome to take off your robe, too."


	27. Pleasantries

**A/N: **A companion piece was written which fits between chapter 26 and this chapter named: _Harry's Missed Adventure_. You don't have to read it in order to understand this chapter but it explain an off hand comment Harry makes about Hermione's friend Sara.

* * *

**Pleasantries**

"Mum and Dad are worried. Ron hates me. Percy thinks I'm rebelling. Fred and George think it's brilliant as if I planned the whole bloody thing for some huge prank." Her voice is so full of emotions, ranging from annoyance to despair, to frustration to defeat, that it stops Harry in his tracks. Curiosity gets the better of him. He knows she isn't speaking to him, but stays to listen anyhow. "I can understand my parents being concerned, but honestly, Ron hating me was just too much. It's why Mum allowed me to come back early."

"Well to be perfectly fair, Ronald is gormless at times." The giggling causes Harry to grin. Alia just has a way about her and he finds himself smiling often when she is around.

"You're the one who had a crush on him!" Ginevra howls with laughter when Alia cries out repeatedly for her to shut it while beating her with a pillow.

Harry has to cover his mouth not to laugh aloud. "For a minute! I swear if you tell anyone…"

That is Harry's cue, and he makes his presence known by leaning over the back of the couch between the two friends. "What is the going price on one's silence, hmm?"

"Harry!" Alia swings a pillow at him that he catches mid-swing. Harry laughs and yanks the pillow out of her hand.

Coming around the couch, Harry scoots Alia over and takes a seat moments before smacking Alia with the same pillow. "So what has your family so upset, Weaselette?"

Ginevra pulls her legs up and hugs them to her before responding. "Being in Slytherin."

"Hmm, yes I can see how that would worry them. Aren't the rest of your herd in Gryffindor?" Harry just smirks when she wrinkles her nose at 'herd'.

"Yes." Ginevra pauses and bites her lip.

"What is it?"

"The hat wanted me to go there, too, but I asked if I could go somewhere, anywhere, else." Ginevra hugs the pillow Alia threw at her. "At first the hat balked, said every Weasley and Prewitt had been in Gryffindor and why wouldn't I want to go there and I said because of that exactly! I'm more than just a last name. I have six brothers: Bill the perfect first born son is tall, handsome, brilliant, was prefect and Head Boy in his time, and works for Gringotts as a cursebreaker in Egypt; Charlie is brave, strong, clever, was a prefect, and works with dragons in Romania; Percy is a prefect; the twins are prankers but brilliant in their creations, and, well..."

"Then there's Ron."

The three laugh before Ginevra sighs, "Yes, well still it is hard to live up to the hype of being the only Weasley girl, the princess of the family, always having the others dictating what I can and cannot do. It was bad at home. Can you imagine what I'd have to go through here?"

"More of the same I'd imagine." Alia smiles with understanding and Harry shrugs.

"Coming from an orphan with no one, overbearing brothers is a small price to pay to have the love of family. I wouldn't dismiss it completely." Harry nudges Alia. "Except Ron, he really is an odd one."

"Harry?"

"Yes."

"Don't tell my brother."

Harry chuckles, "It's gonna cost you, Al."

"Ugh!" Alia drops her head in her hands causing both Ginevra and Harry to laugh at her expense while she grumbles about brats and worthless friends.

"I haven't had a good laugh in a while." Harry stretches his legs in front of him and relaxes on the couch.

"Not to be rude or diminish your experiences, Harry, but just like I have no idea what it is to be you, you have no idea what it is to be me." Ginevra's brows are furrowed as she stares into the fire.

"Fair point, Weaselette." Harry leans his head back, closing his eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Alia and Ginevra sit forward, at Harry's vague nod Alia continues. "What was it like down there? You know, with that whole Fluffy, vine, potion, and... stuff."

Ginevra shudders and Harry sighs. "We talk about it sometimes. It was all pretty weird actually. No doubt in my mind that it was one of the dumber moves on my part. Granted I didn't want Vo... You-Know-Who coming back but what we thought we could accomplish... none of us are sure. Man, Zabini's mom read us the riot act she was so worried."

"Jason told me that Blaise said he's never seen her cry before." Alia hugs a pillow to her chest much like Ginevra.

"It's why I haven't told them much about this heir stuff." Harry sits up and sighs. "Not sure I care really."

Alia and Ginevra sit wide eyed, staring at Harry until he talks again. "The chamber is real, the monster is loose. You heard about Creepy-"

"Creevey," Alia and Ginevra automatically correct him.******  
**

"Well it turns out this isn't the first time the beast has been let free. It actually killed a girl before." Harry is combing his fingers through his hair. "I talked to Granger. She knows her time here is limited. Once her parents get wind of this threat, she will be told to come home."

"Do you know who it killed?" Alia's voice has a slight tremble when she asks.

"You probably know her." From the skeptical looks from them both, Harry grins, "Think about it. What ghost here is the only student, floating around all mopey in a Hogwarts uniform?"

The girls exclaim in unison, "Moaning Myrtle!"

* * *

"I want to do it again."

"What?"

"I want to do it again."

"I heard you the first time."

"Well?"

"Why?"

"It was... fun."

"How was that fun? Fawcett made you cry. You're a strange girl, Granger."

"Harry..."

"No."

"Please?"

"Begging won't help. What would your friends think if they heard you carrying on like this?"

"They would want to do it, too."

"What? No! Besides you don't have any-"

"Yes, I do."

"Is… is that? That is, isn't it? Granger, that's just..."

"Harry, it'll be okay."

"How will it be okay with you prancing around and-"

"You do realize I didn't have to ask."

"You would do this without my consent?"

"Maybe…"

"How are you not in Slytherin?"

"Too smart, I suppose."

"Hmm…"

"Just one more time?"

"I'll tell you what. If you have more, we'll both do it. Sound fair?"

"You would be me?"

"Yes."

"You'd see my body."

"Yes."

"You want to see my body?"

"That isn't what I was trying to point out."

"So you don't want to see my body?"

"Point. Missing it."

"Huh?"

"How are you in Ravenclaw?"

"Now you're just being mean."

"The point I'm trying to make here, Granger is that I am uncomfortable with the idea of you prancing around as me again. I have no idea what you did last time to and with my body and its unnerving to hear that you had 'fun' in it. So no, you are not to drink that polyjuice potion and… Oh, bloody hell. Don't let anyone see me in a skirt!"

* * *

He likes to watch the sun come up over the pitch. It is a peaceful time. Even as cold as it is in the winter with snow on the ground and a frigid breeze blowing, Harry comes out here as often as he can. The calm at the start of the day makes it worth the effort to trudge out here. Harry hears the footsteps coming up the stairs up to the stands. Harry pulls his robe closer with a soft shiver. "Where are your goons?"

"Funny."

Harry pulls his wand to cast a warming charm mentally thanking Hermione for researching the spell and teaching it to him. "Well it isn't often you're seen without their company."

"I could say the same about you." Draco stands at the rail looking out over the pitch. "Where are yours?"

"My friends aren't bodyguards."

Draco sniffs. "Semantics."

"Zabini is most likely hiding from Greengrass. Vaisey is probably still asleep." The golden soft rays of sunshine are stretching over the horizon. "So what are you doing out here so early in the morning?"

"Similar to Zabini. Hiding from Parkinson." Draco crosses his arms. "There are perks to having the bird around, but she gets to be too much sometimes."

"Tell me something?"

Draco shoots him a contemplative look, "Perhaps."

"What did you think when everyone said I attacked Finch-Fletchley?"

A feral grin spreads across Draco's face and he chuckles, "Hilarious actually. While I may not know who the true heir is, I know it isn't you. Even when you're angry you wouldn't kill anyone."

Harry didn't miss how Draco used 'wouldn't' as opposed to 'couldn't'. His grin spreads slowly across his face. "I have to admit, messing with the other Houses has been fun."

"You are constantly surprising me, Potter." Draco brushes his robe of some imaginary lint. The sun is shining bright and strong. It is chilly, but beautiful and clear. A great day for Quidditch.

"Ready for today's game?" The stab of jealousy curls in Harry's gut. Marcus still hasn't allowed him to start since their first game.

"Looking forward to it." Draco shoots Harry a knowing smirk.

"What?"

"Goyle has the flu." Draco turns to head back to the castle. "Make sure not to fall on me this time."

* * *

Valentines Day has never been anything special to Harry. It's just day. A day of classes, homework, friends and maybe if they're lucky one of his friends will get chocolate and share. This year, unfortunately, won't be like any other. Professor Lockhart has gone to extremes to ensure no one forgets this year.

It starts in the Great Hall with breakfast. The room is an explosion of pink, lace, hearts and confetti that rains down everywhere on everyone and everything, including in their food and drinks. The colors are so nauseating but that isn't enough, oh no, because the man himself is wearing pink and hearts as well. If anyone can see past the hideous décor they may notice that even Dumbledore is taken aback by the extravagant, eccentric and hued garment display by the DADA professor as if the headmaster would ever be seen in something so outlandish.

Professor Lockhart makes a spectacle of himself during breakfast by wishing everyone a happy Valentine's Day and releasing dwarves dressed as cupids and allowing them to run amok throughout Hogwarts. This is disturbing in and of itself but Harry's day just got interesting.

Shortly after lunch, while walking to Transfiguration, a dwarf calls out. Harry doesn't think much of it as he has just left the Great Hall in a crowd of students and really how is he to know 'oy, 'arry!' is directed at him?******  
**

"I think the little guy is calling you, Potter." Jason glances at the diminutive cupid waddling in their direction.

"Don't be silly, Vaisey." Harry continues towards the staircase following the flow of students.

"Oy! 'Arry Potter!" The gruff voice bellows.

"Now who is silly, Potter?" Blaise nudges his side and motions with his head towards the little man. "Are you going to ignore him?"

Harry doesn't miss Blaise's amusement and decides yes he is going to ignore the dwarf. "Considering the circumstances, yes."

"What circumstances?" Jason watches the 'cupid' scamper up the first set of stairs huffing in annoyance. "The man is growing angrier, Potter."

"Exactly, the more annoyed he becomes the less likely he will be to follow. If I don't stop for him, he'll give up. I don't have a Valentine." Harry has stopped to talk to Jason, glancing past his friend he can see the cupid gaining ground and starts to move again. "So my guess is this is a prank and I really don't want it. Besides, I'm curious to see how long it takes him to give up on me."

Ducking between students, Harry quickly makes his way towards class. First year Slytherins stand along the right side with first year Gryffindor on the left side of the hall.

A bemused Alia watches Harry's progression. "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry pauses long enough to grin at Alia and Ginevra. "Ducking a dwarf. Barmy thing doesn't get the hint."******  
**

"Oy! 'Arry, I has a singin' one fer ya." The gritty voice carries down the hall as his little legs work overtime to catch up. He starts bulldozing his way through longer legs in his way with unwavering resolution set on his sweaty face.

"He seems determined to sing to you." Ginevra giggles along with Alia and Harry waves a hasty good-bye as he scurries off.

"Not so fast,"

"It isn't fair,"

"Those little legs,"

"Can't catch you,"

"Without a little help from us." Fred and George have grabbed an arm each dragging Harry backwards towards the dwarf.

"Besides, we want to hear this." The twins manage to say the line in unison.

The two rows of first years are laughing at the spectacle glad it isn't them in the clutches of the twin Weasley brothers. Harry groans. "I was so close to freedom."

Half of the second year Slytherins stop in the hall to watch as the out of breath dwarf glares at Harry, huffing up at him. "Righ', now 'old on. Yeah?" He clears his throat, plinks the harp in hand and belts out a tuneless Valentine at the top of his lungs gaining everyone's attention.******  
**

**_"His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,_**  
**_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._**  
**_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_**  
**_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."_**

The whole hall had grown quiet to listen to the 'song'. As the last note twangs from the harp, laughter immediately replaces it. Harry wipes his mirth-filled tears holding his side, "Oh, that was horrid."

Draco grins with a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes, "Oh I wouldn't say that. I think that is a splendid new nickname for one of Syltherin's heirs, Divine-Toad-Eyes-Boy-Who-Lived."


	28. Petrified

**Petrified**

"Wait, this will shape my future? What I pick _now _is what I have to do for the rest of my life?" Harry stares with horror filled eyes at the slip of paper in his hand. He reads over the class choices again only to finally give up with a groan. He drops his head to the library table, cradling it in the crook of his arm. "This is so stupid."

"Sit up, Potter. Stop acting like a girl." Blaise ignores Hermione's huff and frowns at Harry. "Just pick two electives."

Harry lifts his head to glare at Blaise, "I'm _twelve_, Blaise. What twelve year-old knows what they want to do for the rest of their life?"

"I have known for many years what my future holds. Once I leave Hogwarts, I will attend a University to learn business law. Upon graduation, I will take over the families' businesses," Blaise ignores Jason's snort of amusement, "I will inherit numerous companies when I come of age."

Staring blankly at his friend, Harry blinks after a full minute of silence. "When I was five I wanted to be a fireman, at six a doctor. How do I do this?"

"It's not as if you can't change your mind, Potter. You're given options. These electives give you a chance to see if you're at all interested in certain fields such as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, or mindless things such as Divination. Perhaps you're more of an outdoors type and take Care of Magical Creatures." Blaise checks off elective classes for his next year at Hogwarts before looking at Harry with a quizzical frown. "What is a fireman and a doctor?"

"Sorry, they're Muggle professions. A doctor is like a healer and a fireman puts out fires and stuff." Harry looks over the list again and shakes his head. "Divinations might be an easy mark, but if it's mindless it'll be boring. What's Ancient Runes?"

"The study of runes… that are ancient." Jason snickers and makes a few choices for his class schedule. "I'd think twice about Care of Magical Creatures. I hear Professor Kettleburn has a few missing limbs and is as barmy as they come."

"Good to know." Harry shudders at the idea of losing limbs and selects two electives that he picks semi-randomly, silently praying he doesn't regret his choices. He leans over to glance at Hermione's choices and laughs. "When will you have time to do your homework, Granger?"

"Well, I want to learn!" Hermione looks at her electives again with concern. "I suppose picking them all is a bit much."

"Just a bit." Jason blinks at her, "You do plan on eating and sleeping next year, right?"

"Blaise should take Muggle Studies, then maybe he'd learn about firemen." Hermione wrinkles her nose at Blaise who scoffs.

"I would like nothing more than to dispute your theory, Granger. However, while your reasoning is faulty, I will be taking Muggle Studies. The truth of the matter is I will need this course for my future profession." Blaise sniffs. "One of the businesses I will inherit is a Muggle business and I will be forced to associate with a boardroom full of their sort."

Hermione frowns at the 'their sort' implication but keeps quiet. At least Blaise isn't above associating with Muggles. She tilts her head, peering at Blaise which causes him to bristle, "What are you doing? Are you trying to imagine me in a Muggle suit, sitting at a long table filled with Muggles?"

"Actually, I'm trying to imagine you out of a suit." Hermione bites her lip in concentration, somehow missing the look of shock on Blaise's face.

Harry coughs to cover his laugh and turns his head away towards a bookshelf with sudden interest. Jason covers his humor by biting his fist, looking from Blaise to Hermione and back. Blaise governs his reaction, shooting a frown at Harry and Jason. "Why would you do that?"

"You don't seem to be the type to relax enough to let yourself go. Always so proper, you could never wear jeans and…" Hermione blinks and looks at Harry and Jason. "Did I do it again?"

Jason nods quickly, "Oh yeah."

"Oh." Hermione blushes, "Sorry."

Harry pats her hand, "You just can't help yourself, Granger."

"Well the whole point of picking electives may be moot. We may not even be here next year." Hermione sets her quill down and folds her hands on the table. "If this heir/monster business isn't over soon, Hogwarts may close. I heard some of the professor's talking last night."

The heir/monster business isn't resolved. Months have passed and the attacks seem to have stopped for a time. Rumors of who the heir is, what the monster is and where the chamber is located dies down and life goes on. Classes continue, quidditch is played and exams loom in the murky future. Harry, Blaise and Jason forget about the Chamber of Secrets; at least until Hermione brings up more questions. When she starts more of her theories, Blaise grows distant, Jason goes quiet and Harry nods often while she talks. The two are left behind when Jason and Blaise leave Harry to humor her.

* * *

It's another lovely Saturday morning, perfect quidditch weather and today's game is for the cup; Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Adrian is ineligible to play, elevating Jason to the starting team. Jason is excited, his first game is the last game of the season, the most important game and Marcus glares down the table at him. "Don't eat too much, Vaisey. I don't want you puking on the pitch."

"Right, Flint." Jason pushes his half eaten breakfast aside.

Blaise stares at the eggs sitting on his fork and lowers the utensil no longer hungry. "He paints such a vivid mental image. Is he always so eloquent?"

Harry laughs, "You should hear his pep talks. Lose and you die. He's a real motivator, that one."

"Hmm," Blaise wipes his mouth with his napkin before dropping it on his plate. "Well, at least you know where you stand if you should fail him."

The three friends leave the table and head towards the door where they're met by Hermione, "Morning, Granger."

"G'Morning!" Hermione smiles at them and slips her hand into the crook of Jason's elbow. "Are you excited?"

"Petrified," Jason grins and shrugs, "I just hope I don't fall off my broom."

"That would be embarrassing."

"Painful, too. If I survive the fall; Flint will kill me." Jason sighs and Hermione doesn't know if he's joking or serious, does she laugh or…

"He wouldn't. Not… not really…" Hermione looks over at Harry, "He didn't kill Harry when he fell."

"Harry didn't fall with the quidditch cup on the line."

"Oh," Is about all Hermione could mutter. The four stop in the Entrance Hall, while Hermione continues her sage advice, "Well then, don't fall."

Jason rolls his eyes, "I'll try not-"

"Potter?" Blaise watches Harry as he presses his ear against the wall.

"It's talking again, moving. I heard the voice. It sounds anxious," Harry looks at his friends, "and it's begging to kill."

Hermione shudders at his words, "Well, that's cheerful."

Harry sighs as the voice is gone, "Sorry. I hate that I'm the only one who hears this. It's unnerving."

"Pitch! Now!" Marcus storms through the Entrance Hall, glowering at everyone in his path, followed by the majority of the quidditch team.

Hermione's eyes widen and she grabs Harry's sleeve to keep him from following Marcus out the door. She keeps quiet until the others are out the door. Hermione's voice is choked and soft as a whisper, "Oh, Harry, why didn't I think of this before? It… it all makes sense now doesn't it?"

"What are you going on about?" Harry watches the range of odd emotions that dance across her face.

"I have to be sure though. I have to-"

"Research it in the library?" Harry grins and she blushes.

"Yes. Good luck at the game. I'll see you after." Hermione's excitement is not the same as when she was finished with the Polyjuice Potion; no, this excitement is breathless, anxious and filled with fear of being right.

"You're going to miss a great game." Jason calls after her as she waves at them from the staircase.

"You'll be brilliant, Jason!"

"See you later, Granger." Harry pulls his friends along, they're already late and Marcus will have their hides if they don't hurry.

On their way to the pitch, the boys lengthen their strides to pick up their pace without actually breaking into a full run. Blaise pauses before heading to the stands, clapping Jason on the shoulder, "You will do exceptionally well. Have a bit of faith in your abilities and don't get hit by a bludger."

"Thanks?" Jason gives him an awkward grin and disappears into the locker room.

Harry nods at the door Jason disappeared through, "Better be ready to pay up, Zabini."

Blaise scoffs. "You haven't won yet, Potter."

"It's just a matter of time." Laughing, Harry hurries into the locker room.

Ignoring the glare from Marcus, Harry steps over to his locker and quickly changes into his uniform and protective gear. Marcus talks strategy with the other chasers and calls out to get the team's attention once he's done. "Alright, listen up. This is it. It's the last game of the year and last game for us seventh years. We need this cup. I _want _this cup. You'll get me this bloody cup or so help me-"

Jason whimpers, claps his hands over his mouth and runs to the bathroom. Harry watches his friend disappear with a soft sigh when retching noises from the bathroom soon follow. "Vaisey, you better not puke on the pitch!" Marcus growls and walks out, soon to be followed by the rest of the team.

Harry waits for Jason and the pair walk out, brooms in hand to find Blaise leaning against the wall beside the door. Upon seeing the two, Blaise grins triumphantly and holds his hand out. Harry scowls and hands him the galleons. Blaise pockets the gold and gives them both a nod. "Face it, Potter. I'm always right."

"What's he right about?" Jason looks a bit green but doesn't get a response from Harry who rushes him forward. The two hurry to the pitch, Jason pauses and looks up at the stands. The roar of the school sends a shudder through him. "How do you ignore that?"

"Once you're up there flying with the feel of the air whipping past you, you'll be fine. You'll forget about everything else. There's nothing left but the game." Harry pats Jason on the back, "Let's fly!"

Jason is moments behind Harry as they kick off the ground. Slytherin team quickly forms their inverted V formation zooming with precision in their familiar pregame pattern. Professor Hooch looks from Marcus to Oliver while going over the rules, as she does at the start of every game. Harry grins at the Weasley twin near him. "No words of luck this time around, Weasley?"

"Nah, last time I did that, you landed on the seekers. Maybe a bit of bad luck would do you better?" The twin grins back. "Hey, is that McGonagall?"

Harry looks where the twin is pointing and watches the woman scurry to the center of the pitch to speak with Professor Hooch. "Wonder what that's all about."

Marcus and Oliver are on the ground with the two professors and neither looks pleased. Right about the time when Marcus starts flailing his arm and jabbing a finger in Professor McGonagall's direction that the rest of the two teams start to get a bit nervous. Harry frowns, trying to interpret Marcus' hand gestures. "This can't be good."

"I dunno," the Weasley twin is next to Harry now, both watching from a safe distance, "Maybe we'll get luck and see McGonagall hex the little troll."

The two teens laugh at the mental image but the fun is over as soon as Professor McGonagall's voice booms with the aid of the sonorus spell. "This match is canceled. All students are to return to their House common rooms immediately! Your Head of House will explain once there. Quickly now!"

"But the cup!" The twin groans, the players grumble but the teams file out of the pitch as they're told.

Professor Snape is standing near the edge of the pitch not too far from the locker room door, arms crossed, peering at the students crossing his path. "Mr. Potter."

Harry stops in his tracks. "Yes, sir?"

"You will come with me. Mr. Vaisey will see to your broom." Professor Snape doesn't wait for a response. Turning on his heel, he makes his way back towards the castle.

"I got it, Potter." Jason takes Harry's broom and nudges him, "What did you do this time?"

"Not a clue." Harry runs to catch up to Professor Snape and falls in step with him.

They make their way through the castle doors, past the Entrance Hall and up the moving staircases. Harry is fascinated and amused at how the students part, pressing against walls or each other in order to get out of Professor Snape's way.

Once they near their destination Professor Snape speaks, pausing in the hallway. He watches the double doors of the infirmary. "I should warn you. What you're about to see may be… disturbing." Harry looks from the doors to the professor and blinks in confusion. When Harry doesn't speak, Professor Snape looks at him. "There has been another attack."

"Sir?" Harry's look of panic is not lost on Professor Snape. With the smallest of nods, Professor Snape closes the distance to the doors and pushes one side open. Harry tries not to look worried, but he can feel his body trembling when he forces his legs to move him forward. Fear grips him and he just can't seem to cross the threshold into the infirmary as if not entering equates to the attack being undone.

"Go on, Potter. Your friend needs you." Professor Snape's voice breaks through Harry's panic and his stoic demeanor is reassuring. Harry nods in understanding and faces the infirmary again.

One foot in front of the other, Harry's momentum builds and soon he is rushing through the infirmary. He tries to remain calm, blinking back the sudden rush of moisture threatening to break through. Harry's heart stops at the sight of her; his voice chokes in a cry of anguish, "Hermione?"

Harry stops short at the side of Hermione's bed almost bowling over Professor Flitwick in the process. The professor let out a squeak of fright, dodging out of the way with merely a clip of Harry's elbow to his head. Oblivious to his surroundings, Harry's façade crumbles completely and his breathing hitches to the point of hyperventilation. "No… this… this wasn't… not you… never you… you were supposed to be safe."

"Mr. Potter?" Professor Flitwick's high pitched voice doesn't manage to break through Harry's scattered thoughts.

Hermione is petrified like those before her, one hand bent at the elbow as if grasping something, and caught mid-step. Her hair is a perfect fluffy sweep of motion and her look of contemplation as she bites her lip is frozen in time. Harry reaches out to touch her elevated hand, but his own trembles too much, so he stops himself to clench it in a fist.

Professor Snape clears his throat, reminding Harry that he isn't alone. Harry wants to ignore him but he doesn't dare, it would be quite rude after all. Harry brushes his fingers lightly along Hermione's gray tinted cheek, ignoring how the rough granite-like skin gently scrapes his. "Is she petrified, sir?"

"Yes."

"She's still alive then."

"Yes."

Relief floods him when Professor Snape says that one small word that holds so much hope for Harry. He closes his eyes, the tears he fought against fall freely. Hermione is alive. Keeping his back to the professors, Harry slowly swipes at his eyes, wiping away the grief and guilt, swallowing thickly. "I thought she'd be safe. They all knew. The whole bloody school knew. I made sure of it. It worked for a while, too. Every Slytherin understood she was mine and left her alone." Harry leans over and gently kisses Hermione's forehead before turning to look up at Professor Snape with red rimmed eyes. "And still… somehow, I failed to protect her."

Professor Flitwick takes a page from Professor Snape's proverbial book and clears his throat to gain Harry's attention. Harry jumps in surprise, blinks and turns his attention to the diminutive professor noting him for the first time. "Sir?"

"Do you know why she was in the library and not at the match?"

Frowning, Harry thought of their brief meeting in the Entrance Hall, her hasty exodus up the marble stairs and nods slowly. "She thought of something. Figured it out, she said. Was smiling as big as you please, going on about how did she not think of it before."

"What did she figure out?"

Harry huffed in annoyance at having to repeat himself. "She wouldn't say. All she would say is she was going to research it in the library first to be sure."

"Hmph," Professor Flitwick lets out a squeak of a grunt in frustration and tries a new tactic. "She was carrying this." He shows Harry a lovely silver etched hand mirror. Harry looks at the elevated hand and the way it is shaped, noting it will grip the mirror handle perfectly. "Any idea why she would need it?"

"Sorry, Professor, I haven't the foggiest." Harry closes his hand softly around Hermione's raised hand. "She's so cold."

"Come along, Mr. Potter. I still need to speak with the rest of the House." Professor Snape steps back encouraging Harry to follow suit.

"Oh, right." Harry runs his thumb along Hermione's cheek to say good-bye first, "I'll come back to visit again, okay?"

For a year and a half Harry had worked hard on his Slytherin persona and in one afternoon, it crumbled at the sight of his best friend lying petrified on an infirmary bed. Harry did his best to keep up with Professor Snape's quick pace but his heart wasn't in it.

At the marble staircase, Harry pauses while waiting for the stairs to finish moving. "Professor?"

"Yes."

"A house elf came to my house this summer. He caused mischief, did magic, blocked me from getting on the train to Hogwarts, jinxed my broom all to 'protect' me and get me sent back home because there is something dangerous at Hogwarts." Harry rambles quickly getting everything out as fast as possible before he loses his nerve or is interrupted. Harry can see Professor Snape stiffen and knows he's being watched now, but he can't stop, not yet. "The same house elf came to visit me and let it slip that the chamber was opened before. Talk in Slytherin says it was fifty years ago and that time someone died. I suspect it was Moaning Myrtle."

Harry takes a calming breath and finally meets Professor Snape's gaze. "Moaning Myrtle?"

"Yes, sir. She is the only ghost at the school that is a teen and wearing a Hogwart's uniform." Harry takes a cleansing breath before continuing. "I realize now that its common knowledge that I'm a Parselmouth, it makes me look as if I'm the heir, but I assure you, sir, I'm not. I have nothing against Muggle-borns, which should be obvious to everyone in the school, and I'm only a half blood and… well, it isn't me."

"I see." The two continue down the marble steps and make their way towards the dungeons. "While I applaud your being forthright, I find I am inundated with questions, the most pertinent of them is 'why'. Last year you insisted on defying authority and, against explicit orders not to, went out and nearly got yourself as well as two of your classmates killed. So indulge me while you are feeling this overwhelming urge to contribute information. Why are you telling me this?"

"Last year I did something stupid, like almost getting my friends killed and everything else you said." Harry could feel the heat in his cheeks. "I was lucky, I know that. I put my friends at risk and it was stupid. I upset Mrs. Zabini and the Vaiseys. I would like to believe I learned from my mistakes and I'm putting my trust in you."

Harry couldn't look at him. He just wouldn't because Harry could feel those black eyes staring at him as the two approached the Slytherin common room entrance.


	29. Truth and the Gamekeeper

**Truth and the Gamekeeper**

After Herbology, Professor Sprout pats Harry on the shoulder and assures him and his classmates that the Mandrakes are aging nicely. Harry manages a small smile of gratitude and his group leaves the greenhouse following the rest of their class. Neville, Jason, Blaise and Harry are walking together towards the castle, when Neville decides to fill the awkward silence. "There are three types of Mandrake: Mandragora Officinarum is most common, which is what we have here at Hogwarts; Mandragora Autumnalis is smaller and sometimes called 'womandrake' to distinguish the difference; Mandragora Turcomanica is really rare and…" Neville blushes when the other three look at him in surprise. "I'm fascinated by Herbology for some reason. Anyhow, as Professor Sprout said, the Mandrakes are maturing. They've started throwing parties and next they'll start moving into each other's pots. That's when you know they're mature and are ready."

"Seems a bit creepy and almost sad really, they're raised to be killed so others can live. What a fate." Jason is staring off in thought, head tilted in contemplation. It's a brisk day, where the sun has just burned off most of the morning dew and the sky is a lovely blue with white fluffy clouds.

Harry hears Jason's opinion and is stunned that he doesn't feel the same as his friend. He can't seem to object to killing the Mandrakes in order to save Hermione. Keeping his head down, Harry shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering why he has no guilt at their impending doom. His brow is furrowed as he thinks on this.

It's Blaise that finally responds to their friend. "Vaisey, you are speaking of roots. It is their purpose to become a part of potions. Would you rather that Granger remain a statue?"

"No." Jason shoots a look at Harry who stiffened at Blaise's question. "I'm not saying that at all, I just thought it was creepy."

Neville smiles at Jason, "Ginger, dandelion, asphodel, aconite… they're all plants, too. Like many roots, including the Mandrake, they have many medicinal uses. Besides it's better to have the Mandrake safely grown here at the school than in the wild where they're hunted by dugbogs." The Gryffindor students are moving away from their Slytherin counterparts so Neville waves his farewells. "See you guys later."

"Later, Longbottom." Keeping his opinions to himself, Harry clutches his bag close to him with his mind reeling. Since his initial visit with Hermione two nights ago, Harry has been withdrawn and feeling a bit lost. Neither Blaise nor Jason has managed to pull him out of this depression Harry finds himself in.

Harry stops in his tracks and absently rubs his forehead with a soft hiss of pain. Jason stares at Harry with wide frightened eyes. Blaise peers at their friend, demanding an answer, "How long?"

Harry stares blankly at Blaise, "How long what?" He rubs vigorously at the scar, wishing for relief.

"How long has your scar been burning again?" Blaise grabs his hand from his forehead, trying to force Harry to look at him.

"I don't know, off and on for months. Why?" Harry snaps, closing his eyes tightly until the wave of pain eases to a dull throb.

Blaise exchanges a look with Jason before they are forced to catch up with the rest of the class. They keep to the back of the pack of students and lower their voices, "Previously, when this phenomenon occurred, it was a sign. Or have you so quickly forgotten what transpired last year?"

Harry blinks as the pain dissipates, Blaise's words seeping in and he relents. "It's a sign of trouble coming."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone that it started again, not even us?" Jason grouses.

"Erm," Harry knows the answer. Realizing he can't lie to his friends, Harry sighs. "No, I don't suppose I did."

"You need to tell someone," Jason nudges Harry's arm, Blaise simply nods his agreement.

"I've never told anyone about it, no adult anyway." Harry drops his book bag on the table once they enter the charms classroom. With a quick glance towards Professor Flitwick, Harry lowers his voice. "My best mates are the only ones that know."

Blaise slips past Harry to take his place at the table, "It's time to tell Professor Snape."**  
**

* * *

"I know what you'd say, I should have told someone already. Don't worry, Zabini and Vaisey both got on me for not doing it sooner. I'm sure you think I'm being an idiot for not telling him or someone but really, Professor Snape is the only one I feel comfortable in telling my secret to even if the last time I talked to him he thought I was nutters.

"It's such a stupid thing. I just don't know what to say. I can see it now. Excuse me sir but I have this problem you see. Every so often my head hurts, well not just hurt really it's more of a blinding pain of whiteness and it's become a source of concern because in the past, as in last year, it was a bad omen of things to come. What sorts of things? Oh, a unicorn blood drinking wraith looking Voldemort swooping at me to kill me in the Forbidden Forest or Voldemort's head sticking out of the back of Professor Quirrell's head that he kept wrapped up in his stinky purple turban and really how did anyone miss the stench from his headgear. That gave me nightmares, by the way. If saying all that doesn't get me locked up, I'm sure the croaky whispering killer voice will.

"Oh and by the by, did I mention I hear voices in the walls? Well, not voices plural. No, just one, but don't worry, it doesn't carry on conversations with me. No, it only wants to kill real badly. I'm not crazy, really I'm not." Harry sighs, "I bet you'd tell me I can trust Dumbledore and you're probably right but how do you talk to someone who always looks so happy? It's not natural to be that bloody happy all the bloody time."

He tries to imagine what Hermione would say next but Harry just can't manage it. "You're a good listener, Granger. You don't interrupt, you don't voice unwarranted opinions. Not that you really have a bloody choice."

Harry caresses her gravely skin, ignoring the soft scrape against the pads of his fingertips . "I miss you, Hermione. I've gotten so used to talking with you, hearing your laughter, seeing your smile. You're such a big part of my life and I hadn't realized it until you were stuck here, like this."

Resting his forehead on her loosely balled fist, Harry sighs, "Professor Sprout said the Mandrakes are aging nicely. Jason says it's creepy that we're all waiting for them to grow up so we can kill them, but they're plants, roots really, so it isn't creepy and honestly I don't care if it is."

Wrapping his hand around Hermione's, Harry sighs, feeling so selfish. Here he is thinking of what he hopes for, not what Hermione wants. But Harry is pretty sure if given a choice, she will choose a normal life as well. Living as a statue isn't living. "Professor Flitwick asked me what it was you were doing in the library. Naturally I couldn't tell him because you didn't tell me before you wandered off to do your precious research. What did you find, Granger? Why couldn't you tell me?"

Without realizing it, Harry gripped her hand tighter and frowned. Something is different about her hand. Harry traces his fingers around her hand and notes she's holding something. Tilting his head, he sees it is a white color rather than her current grey gravel skin and tugs gently until it is free.

Opening the balled up page, Harry scans the print and grins. "Blimey, Hermione. Mute as a statue and you've still managed to give me answers. Clever, clever girl."

Harry leans over her prone form and kisses her forehead. "Soon, Granger. You'll be back to normal soon."**  
**

* * *

"You'll be fine." Jason pats his back. Harry takes a calming breath. Blaise gives him a supporting nod and he knocks.

There is a moment when the three think of turning away. The silence stretches for a time and just as they are about to give up hope, "Enter."

Harry jumps at the sound of his voice, realizing he half hoped he wasn't in. Blaise opens Professor Snape's office door and raises an eyebrow at Harry. The three students scurry in and face the professor. Harry holds his hands behind him to clasp them together so no one will see them shake. "Evening, Professor. We were hoping to speak with you if you have a moment."

Professor Snape's quill pauses; he looks at the boys expectantly. "It's important?"

"We believe so, yes sir."

"Very well."

Stepping forward Harry opens his mouth to speak, panics, closes his mouth, opens his mouth and squeaks out a garbled whimper. Blaise clears his throat and steps up beside his friend. "What he is failing to say sir is we have information that was obtained by Miss Granger. During Potter's last visit," Blaise tugs the page from Harry's grasp and hands it over to the professor, "he found this sheet balled in her left hand."

"This is from a library book, one would assume."

"We believe so, sir. While I'm sure Miss Granger will be duly reprimanded at a later time, the fact that she has possibly identified the 'Slytherin Monster' is what concerns us as basilisks are extremely rare and quite deadly."

"While I admit, a basilisk is a likely candidate, why are you so sure that this is indeed the beast from within the chamber?"

Blaise glares at Harry, "You didn't tell him?"

Harry winces, "I must have forgotten. I told him everything else."

"_Everything_?" Blaise enunciates each syllable and Harry closes his eyes tightly.

Rambling quickly to fix his oversight, Harry explains, "Sir, along with everything I previously told you, I had heard a voice within the walls, moving at an alarming rate. It's a voice that others didn't hear, or couldn't understand, even if they had heard it speaking. We suspect the basilisk was speaking, seeing how I am a parselmouth I would be the only one who could understand. Well, besides the actual heir."

Jason nudges Harry, "And…"

Professor Snape raises an eyebrow, "There's more?"

"It's his scar, sir. Potter's scar hurts him. Sometimes it's a blinding pain that almost cripples him."

Harry has the decency to look abashed, "It usually happens when something bad is about to happen. Or if Voldemort is around."

The others all flinch at the use of Voldemort's name. Professor Snape stiffens, "Last year, the evening of your sorting."

"Yes, sir. It hurt that night for the first time. Then there was the night in the Forbidden Forest when Malfoy and I found the dead unicorn and Professor Quirrell was drinking its blood. There were other times that seemed random. There was also the night I met up with Voldemort," Professor Snape's eyebrow twitches, Blaise flinches and Jason hisses at the use of the name again, "connected with Professor Quirrell." Harry shudders at the memory of that night.

"And it has bothered you this year?"

"Yes, sir. I should have mentioned it earlier but I didn't want anyone to think I was looking for attention or think I was crazy and imagining things." Harry looks at his friends. "Up until now, only Zabini, Vaisey and Granger knew about it."

"I see." Professor Snape drops his forgotten quill, stands and walks around his desk. "Potter you'll come with me, but first we'll see you two back to the common room."

Holding his office door open, he waits for the boys to exit first and follows shortly after them. The four walk down the dungeon hall towards the Slytherin common room entrance, Professor Snape leading his three students. At the distinguishable crack in the hall, voices carry to them and they pause.

"Yes, Father, please give my regards to Mother." Draco turns to enter the Slytherin common room only to be faced with the four new arrivals. Draco blinks in surprise, eyes scanning the four before him, eyes tensing at the sight of Potter. Unsure of what to do, Draco's upbringing comes to the rescue. He nods to the professor, "Evening, Professor."

Professor Snape's unreadable gaze appraises the situation quickly. He eases forward putting himself between Lucius and his students, "Evening."

Lucius' cool gaze rakes over the students, pausing for a long moment on Harry, eyes flicking in search of the telltale scar before ending with Professor Snape. With a sniff, Lucius snaps his cane under his arm. "Draco, run along and take the others with you."

All four students stiffen at the command and each one of them, including Draco, look to Professor Snape before daring to move. If one watches the professor closely, the pride in his students shines in the obsidian depths of his eyes along with the virtually imperceptible nod of his head. Three of the four students immediately turn to comply; Harry hesitates to join them for only second in order to make eye contact with his professor, intentionally ignoring both Malfoys.

Not one of the four dare to speak until the common room is secured, fully aware the adults they walked away from are watching them closely. Once the doors are closed, Harry shudders before allowing his shoulders to relax. "That was intense."

Blaise turns on Draco quickly, "What is your father doing here?"

Draco sneers at him, "My father is School Governor. He's here on official business."

"That can't be good." Harry rubs his forehead and sighs, "Any idea what official business?"

Draco smirks knowingly, "Fudge came to take the big oaf off to Azkaban for opening the chamber and endangering students. Father also said Dumbledore is relieved of his duties as Headmaster."

"Hagrid?" Harry frowns in thought as they move towards the nearest seating available far enough from meddlesome peers. "Weird, I just don't see Hagrid as the heir/kill all the muggle-born type."

Three take seats, Harry props against the arm of Jason's chair and Draco gives a modest shrug, "He really doesn't seem clever enough."

"Isn't he half giant?" Jason sits forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Hagrid, the heir of Slytherin. Hmm, nope, can't see it either."

Blaise crosses his legs, sitting back and smirks at them, "Amateurs, its obvious. Your friend Hagrid is merely a scapegoat."

"Oh," Harry sits up as that answer sinks in, "That makes much more sense. Bloody hell, that puts us back to not knowing who the heir is."

"What about Dumbledore? Why did they make him leave?" Jason isn't so quick to overlook this part of the conversation.

Draco looks bored, glancing at his manicured nails before responding. "It's obvious, is it not? He failed to keep the students safe."

Glancing at the other three, Draco dares them to disagree. When none offer a rebuttal, Draco raises his eyebrow in surprise as Jason shrugs and the other two nod in agreement with his observation. Draco watches as Harry looks towards the common room entrance for the second time. "Expecting company, Potter?"

Harry blinks, looks blankly at Draco then realizes why he asks. "No."

Unconvinced, Draco rises from his chair. "Right. Keep your secrets." With a nod Draco departs leaving the three friends alone.


	30. Moaning Myrtle

**Moaning Myrtle**

The common room is quiet, the hour is late and the only sounds heard are the crackle of the fire and the occasional page of his book being turned. Harry is slouched in an overstuffed armchair with his school robe draped over the arm. His tie is loose, the top three buttons undone on his shirt and his fingers spread over his scalp, holding his head up as his eyes skim over each page. He's read this book cover to cover a few times and each time he learns something new.

He hears the shuffling feet and glances in the direction of the dorms. "Can't sleep?"

"No." Alia practically skips over to him in her fuzzy house slippers and nightgown. She sits on the arm of his overstuffed chair and nudges his thigh with a slippered foot. "Did you get to see her today?"

"Yes."

"How is she?" Alia gets comfortable with her feet on the seat cushion and elbows on her knees as she props her chin on her hands. Harry stares at Alia without speaking before returning his attention to the book in his hands without dignifying her question with a responds. Alia huffs, "Well?"

Harry doesn't look up from the book he's staring at, unable to read now that Alia is there asking asinine questions. "She's petrified… as in, she's a living statue. How do you think she is?"

"You don't have to get snippy with me." Alia pouts.

With a heavy sigh, Harry lowers his book and looks at Alia, "What do you want, Al?"

"I'm bored."

"Where is your Weaselette shadow?"

"She isn't feeling good again. I think she went to the infirmary this time." Alia sighs, "Jason and Blaise are in their room and I'm bored."

"Go to bed, Al."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Then do homework." Harry futility attempts to read again. Alia refuses to be ignored and slides into the seat beside Harry, squeezing onto the cushion with him. "Oh for the love of… engorgio."

With Harry's renewed attention and a larger, overstuffed chair, Alia gets comfortable plucking the book from his grasp, "What are you reading?"

Harry stares at the book in her hands as she turns to the cover in order to read it, "_The Beaters' Bible_."

"Hmm… is it interesting?" Alia asks, but sounds far from interested in the subject.

"Very interesting, it's one of my favorite books on quidditch. Are you trying out next year? We're losing a chaser, you'd be great."

"You don't need me. There will still be four chasers next year after Flint graduates."

"Sure, but we need a back ups."

"Maybe…" Alia sighs wistfully, changing the subject again. "You know, times like this I miss my telly."

"Televisions wouldn't work at Hogwarts. There's too much magic here and no electricity." Harry gives up on reading now that Alia has his book. His scar sears with pain and he rubs his forehead hissing softly.

"Headache?"

"Don't you have homework you can do?"

"Mr. Potter." The two students jump at the sudden sound of his voice.

Alia twists in the armchair and smiles up at the new arrival, greeting him with her sing song voice. "Evening, Professor."

Harry rises immediately, too quickly and staggers slightly, managing to stay upright. He rubs his scar before turning around. Professor Snape's eyes narrow as he watches Harry and waits almost patiently. Once Harry's vision clears he turns to the professor and tries a greeting again, "Evening, sir."

"Come with me, Mr. Potter." Before leaving the common room, Professor Snape quirks an amused eyebrow at Alia. "Good night, Miss Vaisey."

"Good night, sir." Alia scampers off towards the dorms.

Harry moves across the room to follow the professor. Professor Snape leads him up the marble staircase. "As you may be aware," he looks pointedly at Harry's scar, "there's been an incident."

His mind is reeling at the implication of his being summoned. Hermione is already petrified. Blaise and Jason were in the dorm room. He saw Draco earlier, not that they're close friends, and they just left Alia. So who is affected? Harry isn't exactly close to any other Muggle-born besides Hermione. They're also on the second floor and not heading towards the infirmary. They round the corner and Harry comes to a full stop. The writing on the wall has a new sentence added below the first and it looks to have been written in blood, making Harry shudder.

**HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER**

"Do you know who she is, sir?" Harry pulls his gaze away from the writing to look up at Professor Snape, but movement catches his attention. Walking towards the window across the hall, there is a row of spiders skittering out through a crack in the wall. "Spiders flee from it."

"It's Ginevra Weasley," his usual dulcet tones are strained and Harry stiffens hearing it. "Your ghost friend is most uncooperative. I'm not sure if I want to know how you met her."

"She haunts more than just the girl's bathroom; any loo will do for her." Which is true, it just isn't how Harry met Myrtle. Harry can't very well tell him about the polyjuice potion experiment. It isn't his secret to tell. They make their way into the bathroom, "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"That is why you are here, Mr. Potter. I want to know how and where this ghost died. In order to find Miss Weasley alive, we need to find her sooner rather than later." Professor Snape pauses before the door. "Lockhart was given this task and he hasn't been seen since."

Harry shudders at the mention of Professor Lockhart and keeps his opinion of the man to himself. They walk into the girl's bathroom, _her _bathroom, and Harry calls out. "Myrtle? Can you spare a moment?"

There is no immediate response to his call. He calls out a few more times before Moaning Myrtle's sing song voice floats over to him. "Harry?" Moaning Myrtle exits her toilet and scowls at the sight of two males in her bathroom.

"Hello, Myrtle." Harry smiles at the fickle ghost and her mood changes instantly.

"Hello, Harry." Her voice coos and purrs, swooping down Myrtle pointedly ignores Professor Snape. She circles Harry, casting a loathing glance at the professor before addressing the boy again. "Why did you bring _him_?" Her voice adjusts with her ever changing mood and gets very pouty, "He's not very nice."

Trying not to laugh when the professor snorts behind him, Harry focuses his attention on the girl. "Professor Snape actually is nice. He's just worried about a student that has gone missing, so his temper is a bit short at the moment."

"Oh?" Myrtle peers at Professor Snape, who simply stares back not giving away any emotions in the process. She huffs, "well, that doesn't excuse him from barging into _my _bathroom and being rude to me." Myrtle crosses her arms to prove her point and turns her back on both of them.

"You're right, of course. The trouble is we're running a bit short on time and I would very much like to ask you a question. It's about you." Harry keeps his tone as neutral and friendly as possible. When Myrtle hears that the question is about her, it gets her attention and she looks at Harry expectantly. "Could you tell me how you died?"

"Me? Ooooh, it was dreadful. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses." Myrtle floats higher; her sing song voice relates her emotional roller coaster. "I was crying, in that very cubicle." She points to the toilet stall she usually sits in and mopes, moans and cries in the u-bend.

"I heard the voice of a boy!" Her voice gets shrill and loud with her anger; she rises higher with her indignation. "He was hissing and sputtering! Well, I came out to tell him that boys aren't allowed in here." Myrtle stops speaking very suddenly. Her eyes are wide behind her round glasses. Myrtle swoops closer to Harry and lowers her voice. "But when I came out, there was no boy. Just a pair of big, yellow, scary eyes. Right. Over." Myrtle points towards the circle of sinks and whispers. "There."

Harry can hear the professor move behind him and he smiles at the ghost as she frowns, warily watching Professor Snape. "Thanks, Myrtle. I appreciate you sharing your story."

Giggling, Myrtle comes very close to Harry, "you're always so nice, Harry."

Hearing another snort behind him, Harry clears his throat. "Yes, well. If you'll excuse me, please, I need to help the professor now."

"Such an oddity, Headmasters for eons have searched for this chamber's entrance and it was here all this time." Professor Snape points out the shape of a serpent along side one of the faucets and they exchange a look. "Well go on then, hiss and sputter."

Harry blinks. "Did you just make a joke, sir?"

"Don't be absurd." Professor Snape steps back, but the twitch of his lip said otherwise and Harry grins.

"Right, what was I thinking?" The sinks are familiar to Harry. He has been in this particular bathroom with Hermione a few times. He never gave it much thought, but this bathroom is designed differently. For instance the bathroom on the first floor - where they met the mountain troll - the sinks are lined against the wall. Here there are six sinks formed in a circular fashion.

Harry looks behind him at the toilet stalls and back to the sinks. A shudder runs through him as the realization comes to him. He stood at this very sink with the polyjuice potion, Hermione looked in this very mirror and he held her right at this spot when she cried over Sara.

Forcing those thoughts aside, he stares at the sink and braces his weight on either side of the porcelain, eyeing the tap. "That faucet is damaged." Harry looks up at the mirrored reflection of Myrtle, "Even when I was alive it was broken. It just… never worked."

Harry rubs the back of his neck. He isn't sure what to say to the sink to make it open. Is it a password? If so, there is no way he could guess it. If that wasn't enough to worry Harry, there is the pressure to speak in parseltongue. He's never had to think about speaking in parseltongue before; he isn't sure just _how_ he did it before, he simply did it. Looking at the faucet, Harry decides to try something simple for a command and pretends the imprint is a real snake as he hisses out the word, "Open."

The rumbling sound makes Harry nervous. Professor Snape grabs his upper arm firmly and tugs him away as the sink Harry was standing at moments ago lowers slowly into the floor. The other five sinks move outwards exposing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Cautiously, Professor Snape moves closer to the entrance and notes the long drop, contemplating not only entry into said tunnel, but the way out afterwards. "One would imagine that if a parselmouth is required to enter the tunnel, one is required to enter the Chamber of Secrets itself. Seeing how you cannot fly sans broom, we'll have to acquire one first."

The two quickly make for the bathroom door and Harry steals a glance at the professor. "Do you ride, sir?"

Professor Snape scoffs, "I wasn't born an old man. I played quidditch in my youth, Mr. Potter."

"For Slytherin? I don't recall seeing your name anywhere in the trophy room."

"No, I didn't play for the school. I played a few impromptu pick up games."

Harry grins, trying to imagine Professor Snape as you youth playing pick up games of quidditch. The long thin professor walks with ease and confidence to the doors of the castle, pulling them open and stops at the entrance. "You were a chaser."

Professor Snape pulls his wand and flicks it, eyeing Harry with an amused glint in his eyes, but doesn't respond. Soon the sound of something zooming closer can be heard and the professor snatches the broom as it slaps into his palm. He hands Harry his broom before repeating the action.

Closing the doors, the two walk back up the stairs quickly, each with a broom in hand. Harry still tries to picture the professor as a young boy flying around, laughing and carefree. It isn't until they reach the bathroom again that the atmosphere takes on a different feel, one of apprehension, caution and anxiety.

"Listen carefully, Mr. Potter. I will descend first, you are to wait until I give the word then follow."

"Yes, sir."

With surprising ease and grace, Professor Snape flies down the pipe to the unknown. Voices are suddenly rising from the bottom of the chamber entrance, and Harry hears yelling. He grips his broom tighter, his heart racing when Professor Snape's voice carries up to him, "_Protego_!"

Harry jumps as the sound of the spell echoes all the way up the pipe. "Harry..." He turns to see Myrtle has returned, "If you die down there. You're welcome to share my toilet."

His stunned reaction is followed by a nervous laugh, "Thanks, Myrtle."

"Mr. Potter."

"Coming, sir." Harry kicks off and carefully makes his way down the pipe. The walls are made of concrete and the entry way is surprisingly large, making the flight easier. He isn't sure what to expect once he arrives at the bottom, but Harry sure isn't expecting to see Ron hovering over an unconscious Professor Lockhart. "What did you do, Weasley?"


	31. Chamber of Secrets

**Chamber of Secrets**

Professor Snape hands Harry the broom he used. "Stay here with these two."

"Yes, sir." Harry takes the broom in hand before leaning them both against the stone wall of the tunnel. The corridor is carved from rock, a light brown with glints of other colors and isn't nearly as dark as Harry imagined it to be. He hears the professor cast lumos and watches as the small light drifts farther down into the dimly lit corridor. Feeling rather exposed and vulnerable, Harry pulls out his wand, rolling it between his palms, watching, listening for any danger to approach.

"I didn't _do_ anything!" Ron growls out the moment Professor Snape is out of earshot.

Harry jumps and frowns, having forgotten Ron was there. "The hell you didn't," Harry snaps back. "If you didn't _do_ anything you wouldn't be down here with Lockhart and he wouldn't be passed out. You'd be up in your tower asleep and he'd be out of the country."

"So what are you-" Ron's eyes widen. "You're _him_ then, aren't you? The heir to Slytherin!" Ron scrambles for his wand, groping under the immobile body of Professor Lockhart while the Slytherin watches in quiet amusement.

Harry - who already had his wand in hand - levels it at Ron's head before the boy can find his own. Ron groans and sits hard on the ground, looking at his wand. "Bloody hell, barmy Lockhart broke my wand." Ron looks up, suddenly remembering why he was so frantic to find the thing, and gets frightened all over again. "So this is it then. You're gonna kill me like you've killed my sister?"

"You really are a gormless prat, aren't you?" Harry lowers his wand, but doesn't put it away. "I'm not the heir, you git. I'm a parselmouth so I'm helping the Professor open the chamber to save your sister." His eyes flick towards the direction the professor went. "Why are you down here, Weasley?"

"I saw what was written by the bathroom. I overheard McGonagall tell the others that it was my sister down here. That's when Snape-"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"-told Lockhart to go fetch her. So I went to see if I could help."

"So what happened to him, then?"

Ron sneers at the professor in question; the man's aquamarine robes now filthy, blonde hair askew and the usually flawless face smudged with dirt, grime and sweat. "He's a fraud. Rambled about leaving, then once I managed to get him down here he complained about the dirt. If that wasn't bad enough, he pretended to faint and stole my wand to obliviate me!" Ron decided right about then that distance from the man was paramount and backed away from Professor Lockhart. "That's when Snape-"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"-did the shield thing and it bounced back on him - like what you did to me before I was spitting up green slugs. The spell hit Lockhart hard enough to knock him out."

"You glossed over how you managed to get the coward down here in the first place."

"When I got to his office, he was packing. I lost my temper and pulled my wand on him." Ron shrugs his shoulder in mild embarrassment. "Then I made him go where I saw you and Snape-"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"Whatever! We saw you two leaving the bathroom talking, the tunnel was left open and I made him go first. _Someone_ has to rescue my sister."

"Let's see if I have this straight, shall we?" Harry tries hard not to smirk at the indignant look on Ron's dirt smeared face. "You were out after curfew, wandering the hallways, eavesdropped on the staff, threatened a professor at wand point, managed to endanger your life - not to mention said professor's life - you have no idea what or who took your sister and yet you think you have a chance to survive."

Ron looks a bit deflated after Harry's tirade. "At least I'm doing something."

"So is Professor Snape, he's risking his life right now by looking for the entrance. Do you even know what the monster is?"

"I…"

"A basilisk. Ever kill one?"

"_No_," Ron glares at Harry. "Funny that _you_ would know. And _still_ you say you're not the heir."

"Hermione Granger figured it out. She's a clever witch." Harry feels the pride in her ability swell in his chest and doesn't fight the grin that comes along with saying her name.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape comes back and motions him forward. Harry goes to him without hesitation, happy to put Ron behind him. "Do you remember the basilisk's weakness?"

"The crow of a rooster." Harry replies immediately. "Only, there are no roosters, or even hens. They were all killed earlier in the term."

"Which is why you need to learn to transfigure this rock into a rooster." Professor Snape points his wand at a stone and with a flick of his wand, he mutters, "Gallus."

The rock immediately transforms into a rooster. The bird looks around, pecks at the ground, looks around again and fluffs its feathers. "Finite."

Harry steps up to the rock and tries to transform it; repeatedly casting gallus and flicking his wand. Professor Snape watches quietly, but then he holds his wand out and flicks it showing him the proper technique. "Oh!" Harry grins and tries again, instantly his rock becomes a smaller rooster than the one Professor Snape created that begins preening.

"Excellent." Professor Snape motions forward, "The door requires your talents. Once I am inside, I want you to transform at least two rocks into roosters, just in case the Basilisk manages to get past me. Remember one rooster will not crow without a second rooster to challenge it." Before stepping away, Professor Snape warns him. "Do not enter the chamber."

The two leave Ron and Professor Lockhart behind to make their way to the Chamber entrance. The door stands before them with intricate workings in the shape of mechanical snakes. Harry watches the largest of the snakes for a moment and braces himself while speaking in parseltongue, "Open."

Harry grips his wand tightly to keep from trembling. The door rattles, the snakes slither and they hear the soft clicking of locks giving away to the secrets that lay beyond. "What… what did you do?"

His heart jumps at the sound of Ron's voice, but thankfully Harry doesn't scream out like in fright. He spins towards Ron, raising his wand and pointing it at him, "You stay here with me."

"I don't have to listen to you!"

Professor Snape clears his throat, "While you do not need to listen to Mr. Potter, you do need to listen to me. Stay here with Mr. Potter and keep quiet. You do not want to attract the attention of the basilisk."

Ron looks as if he'd like nothing more than to argue and disagree, only he keeps quiet and snarls. "Fine," He snaps. "I'll stay here."

"Now is not the time to attempt any heroics. Lives are at stake, including yours and your sister's, Mr. Weasley." Professor Snape looks through the now open door and points from Harry to a stone nearby before moving into the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry watches quietly as Professor Snape moves forward, cape billowing in his wake. The chamber is long and narrow, six stone statues of open mouth snakes rising along the path, three on each side. Harry grips his wand and points at the stone, then flicks, "Gallus."

The stone trembles and reshapes as a rooster that looks around with growing interest in its surroundings and wanders off in the direction of Professor Lockhart. The boys ignore the fowl and watch the professor as he takes a knee beside a black heap.

From their vantage point, the boys watch as a man walks out slowly from some place on the left. "Who is that?"

Harry looks at Ron as if he's mental, "How would I know?"

"Oh, right."

"See any more rocks around?"

"Rocks?"

"To make more roosters. Weren't you paying any attention at all?"

"Oh, right." Ron says again as he looks around; he finds two rocks and brings them back to Harry.

Tossing one rock into the Chamber, Harry transforms it into a rooster. About to throw the next, he jumps when he hears Ron's choked whimper. Harry growls, "What?"

Ron blubbers and points down the Chamber towards where Professor Snape is still kneeling, unmoving as a huge serpent, most likely the basilisk, towers over him. The professor's coloring has changed and even from this distance, Harry notes Professor Snape is as grey as Hermione. With his mind reeling, Harry contemplates their next step on how to save Ginevra and Professor Snape along with killing the basilisk.

"Excuse me?" Both boys jump in fright, whipping around with raised wands. What they encounter is a grinning Professor Lockhart, "Hello! Sorry, I don't mean to bother you." The man teeters on his feet as his grin wavers. "I was just wondering if you could tell me where we are. Mind if I sit down? I don't think I feel quite right."

"What spell did he get hit with?" Harry whispers and nudges Ron.

"A pretty strong obliviate." Ron's voice squeaks and rises in pitch. His broken wand trembles in his hand.

"Is this your place? Interesting décor." Professor Lockhart gingerly pokes the stone wall with a fingertip. "Early neanderthal motif?"

"Right. Well, we don't have time for this. _Stupefy_!" Harry flinches when Professor Lockhart is thrown back from the spell and passes out. "Sorry, Professor."

"H-H-Harry, you just a-attacked a p-pro-professor." Ron's wand hand lowers as he stares wide eyed at the immobile body of Professor Lockhart.

"The same professor you threatened at wand point in order to get him down here in the first place." Harry was quick to point out, "I'll deal with the detention later, Weasley. Right now I need more roosters and to get to Professor Snape before that huge snake smashes him!" Harry turns on his heel and searches around them, noting only a few rocks; they are small but they'll have to do. He scoops them up on his way into the chamber, Ron hot on his heel.

"Here." Ron hisses, tossing a few rocks ahead of them. Harry pauses and transfigures them as best as he can in a hurry. Most pop up as hens rather than roosters or rooster statues instead of live fowl.

"Well, hell." The two press forward, leaving the clucking and pecking hens behind them. "Where did that huge snake go?"

"I… I don't know! I was watching you." Ron picks up speed and runs towards his sister. As he arrives, he slides to a stop on his knees beside the black heap they spotted earlier, "Ginny!"

Harry's pace slows, he drops the rocks at his feet and circle around the kneeling professor. A lump is in his throat and he fights back the tears. "I failed again." Dropping to his knees, he stares at the petrified professor and fights the bile that threatens him.

"You can't help them." With a growl, Harry turns, gripping his wand tightly and stands before a boy, a teen a few years older than him. He has black hair, short and wavy, wearing a vintage Hogwarts uniform, a Slytherin tie and a prefect pin. His thin lips twitch with a touch of humor and dark eyes watch everything playing out before him with care.

Harry's emerald eyes harden, "What did you do to Ginevra?"

"The girl is a tool. I lured her in; her life source is draining to sustain mine. Soon, she will wither away while I will be made whole."

"Who _are_ you?"

With flourish and a flick of his wrist, the teen produces Professor Snape's wand and silently casts flagrate to spell out his name midair in flames: Tom Marvolo Riddle. A wicked sneer curls his lips, turning his handsome face into something sinister, Tom quickly spirals the wand, causing the letters to rearrange themselves, "I am the man that everyone fears."

His letters soon read: I am Lord Voldemort.

Harry thinks his heart will stop in his chest. The very man that tried to kill him as a toddler, the man who killed his parents, the man who previously had his head poking out of the back of Quirrell's skull just last year, is now standing before him. How can he be so young? If he remembers correctly, the chamber was opened fifty years ago, so wouldn't that make Voldemort at least sixty? "How can you be Voldemort? He's nothing but a wandering spirit! He perished trying to kill me, twice."

"So you are Harry Potter." It isn't a question, Tom suddenly stands rigid before them and Harry wishes he hadn't opened his mouth.

Backing behind the statue of Professor Snape, Harry grips his granite shoulder for moral support and holds his wand at his side. "I am."

Tom's eyes flick towards a black leather bound book lying between Ginevra and Professor Snape before resting back on Harry. "It was a simple thing really. A lonely little girl, looking for answers and a friendly shoulder. I used her to open the chamber and now her life will serve me in a greater capacity. After all, I am the strongest wizard to ever live."

"No you aren't! Dumbledore is the strongest wizard ever." Ron's bravado quickly pales when Tom sneers at him. "Well, it's true." He spits out stubbornly.

Harry grins at Ron's stubborn, yet foolish, outburst. He gave Harry what he needs and joins him in his declaration. "He's right and you know it, Tom."

Tom's eyes widen and grow hard as steel, "I am Voldemort! I am the strongest wizard known to man."

"Hmm, no. If my memory is right, you're afraid of one wizard that isn't me. You're afraid of Professor Dumbledore and if you're afraid of him, it could only mean it is because he is a greater wizard then you are or will ever be."

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!" Tom watches the boys with a frighteningly gleeful look as a statue, that up until this point Harry had ignored, opens its mouth. The statue is a large bust of Salazar Slytherin and from its mouth, Harry can hear the sound of slithering scales scraping along stone.

Ron looks at Tom with a disgusted look on his face and Harry guesses that whatever he heard, it isn't the words that were spoken, but the hissing of parseltongue. "He's summoning the basilisk. Whatever you do, Weasley, do not make eye contact with it."

"You're using a monster? Just proves that you're not as strong as Dumbledore!" Ron's last bravado words are finally answered by a call of a bird. This bird is a deep beautiful red like nothing Harry has ever seen before. He looks up at the incoming flight of the majestic bird in awe. The bird twirls gracefully, drops something in Ron's hands and plunges quickly at the basilisk.

Harry looks away, but the shadows that dance along the way tell a story better than he could have hoped for. This bird has come and scratched out the eyes of the snake. Harry sees a few rocks he dropped earlier and begins transfiguring them. "Gallus."

Finally Harry manages not just one, but three roosters. Each rooster puffs out their chest and strut around preening. Harry rolls his eyes and transfigures another, "Gallus."

"Harry!" Ron's excitement is met with curious eyes as he pulls a gleaming jeweled sword from something that looks like a simple brown leather cloth.

"Kill it!" Harry points at the blinded basilisk, its mouth open and hissing moving dangerously close to Ron. "Do something, Weasley!"

A rooster crows, puffing its chest out and elongating its neck. A second rooster begins crowing and a third answers. Soon there are at least four roosters crowing and strutting, causing the basilisk to thrash as if in agony.

Ron cries out in pain as a basilisk fang tears open the soft flesh of his forearm, causing him to drop the sword. The sword drops with a metallic clink, dangerously close to Ginevra, causing Harry to flinch. Harry rushes forward and snatches the sword. He braces the metal pummel in both hands and thrusts upwards as the snake thrashes downwards. Instinctively, Harry jumps back as the basilisk rears back.

"No!" Tom reaches out towards the snake, only there is nothing left to be done. With a few violent thrashing movements, the basilisk falls. "It doesn't matter! I'll rise again and kill you myself. I don't need a basilisk."

The roosters have not stopped their silly crowing even though they are no longer needed. "Finite." The gleam in Tom's eyes is unnerving. Harry swallows thickly, squares his shoulders and faces Tom. "Not if I can stop you."

Harry realizes he's spouting off, similarly to Ron's bravado earlier, but he has to try to do something. Ron is writhing in pain on the ground, gripping his forearm. Harry grabs the sword with both hands and pulls with all his might to dislodge it from the roof of the snake's mouth and out of its brain. He pushes it forward and back, ignoring the occasional twitch of the snake's tail.

"You're making it twitch. Just pull down on the thing and stop scrambling its dead brain." Ron's disgust is almost amusing to Harry, but the pain on the other boy's face stops him. Harry pulls down as hard as he can and manages to dislodge the sword, stumbling backwards from the effort.

Sweating, bloody and dirty, Harry makes his way back towards Professor Snape, Ginevra, Tom and Ron. "I'm not sure how, but you will be stopped." Harry sets the sword down carefully, cautiously making certain the tip is not near Ginevra, Professor Snape or Ron.

Tom hisses and flinches, "What are you doing?"

Ron looks up at Tom with bleary eyes, "Whatever it is, it hurt him. Do it again!"

Harry looks down and notes the point of the sword has nicked the cover of the leather bound book at his feet. Harry presses the sword downward and is surprised to see ink bubble from its pages. "No!" Tom is screeching now as light streams from his body. Harry has no idea why it is working, but twists the sword and pushes through all pages, as far as he can.

The piercing scream of Tom Riddle fades into silence. No sooner does Tom fade, Ginevra stirs. "Weaselette?" Harry crouches beside her, careful to move the cut diary and sword out of the way. "Can you move?"

Ginevra gasps and sits up, looking around in fright, "Harry, Ron! You have to go, you have to leave. The..." Ginevra blinks and stares at the dead basilisk and stone professor. "What happened?"

"Not totally sure, but you're safe for now. Ron, on the other hand, came to save you and I'm not sure what is wrong." Harry points to his arm.

"The basilisk's fang, it pierced me. I think its poison. Everything is cold." Ron blinks, his eyes droop and he sighs heavily as the poison courses through him. "As long as you're okay, Ginny."

"You're dying?" Ginevra squeaks and moves closer to Ron. "I'm so sorry."

Ron gives her a tired, lopsided grin and Harry moves to give them privacy. The big, red bird is back and tilts its head, looking at Harry. "You're an odd bird. Clever one, too. Thanks for the assist."

The bird calls out in its haunted voice, wings spread as it lifts to its toes. The bird soon ignores Harry and makes its way to Ron. Once again the bird tilts its head, only this time to stare at Ron, and then begins to cry for him. The tears slowly make their way down the bird's face and two drip onto Ron's arm. "Ron!" Ginevra cries happily and the three students stare in fascination as the wound quickly knits itself closed.

"Phoenix tears," Harry's voice doesn't hide his awe. He kneels beside the bird. "You're a phoenix, fascinating. I've read about your sort but never met one before."

The phoenix trills and nudges Harry. Harry chuckles, running fingers carefully down the birds head and back. "It is said that a phoenix is strong and can carry much more than its own weight. I have a favor to ask if it isn't too much trouble." The bird tilts its head and Harry continues, "There is a professor out there, Lockhart, who was hit with a spell." The bird nudges him and Harry grins, "Yes, I did it, but for good reason. Thing is, I have no way to get him up the entrance, he can't very well ride on one of the brooms. Would you be so kind?"

The bird trills again and flies off, leaving the three students and the stone professor. Harry stares at the professor while talking to the two Weasleys. "Please take one of the brooms, find Professor McGonagall and let her know what has happened. I'll be up shortly with the other broom. I don't dare to move the professor, I'm not that skilled with floating charms."

"It's easy, Winga-"

"_NO_!" Harry pushes Ron back, "Your wand is broken and if you drop him, it could kill him!"

"Oh. Right." Ron shrugs and moves to leave. "Come on, Ginny."

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" The two Slytherin students crouch near their Head of House.

"Of course. He's Professor Snape, best professor in Hogwarts, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. This won't stop him." Harry tries to sound confident, but isn't really sure he has accomplished it.

Ginevra nods slowly, kisses the professor's stone cheek and whispers to him. "I'm so sorry."


	32. Answers to Riddle

**Answers to Riddle**

The red bird soars away with a gleefully laughing Professor Lockhart. His voice can be heard fading in the distance, echoing in the Chamber Corridor. Harry watches the two Weasleys walk away, Ginevra looking back every few feet. Harry turns to his Head of House, "Don't worry, Professor. I won't leave you. Somehow we'll get you to the infirmary."

Harry scratches his scalp and crouches before the professor. Tilting his head, he peers at the statue of a man, "What were you doing, sir?"

Moving around the professor, Harry tries to remember where the snake entered, where Tom stood, where Ginevra was laying sprawled out on the ground in a heap. Reenacting it in his mind, he kneels much as the professor is and looks at the ground. "Okay, so you came in, went to Weaselette. Only, why didn't you get up when Tom came in?" Harry walks in the direction Tom was before turning towards the still figure. "You had to have heard him. Didn't he talk to you before calling the snake?"

Harry keeps up the movements, circling now and talking out loud as if he expects answers to be given. "I lost track of what you were doing, I had to look for stones and found more pebbles than rocks." Harry sits on the stone ground beside his Head of House. "It wasn't until the Weasle almost soiled himself that I even knew you were in trouble."

He isn't sure how long he waited, "Gallus." Harry only knows he's getting pretty good at transfiguring rocks into roosters.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry jumps, almost kicking the rooster who squawks and rushes away to safety. Professor McGonagall - along with Ron - is walking down the long Chamber. "Goodness, that beast is enormous."

"Evening, Professor."

"Is that a rooster, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall raises a sculpted eyebrow as she peers over her square glasses.

"Basilisk: Spiders flee from it, rooster's crow kills it. Since there were none available, Professor Snape taught me how to transfigure them." Harry points at a rock and flicks his wand, "Gallus."

"Well done, Mr. Potter. Ten points for Slytherin." She gasps, "Oh, Severus." With her hand clutching at her throat, Professor McGonagall circles around Professor Snape. Glancing uneasily a time or two at the dead basilisk, she urges the children to move along. "If you two would please head towards the exit, I would have no objections to leaving here immediately."

Ron is quick to move towards the exit while Harry is slower to follow him preferring to stay closer to his Head of House. Professor McGonagall nods her approval before moving her co-worker, "Mobilicorpus."

Harry waits at the door to the Chamber of Secrets, "Professor, I suggest you go to the other end so you don't hear me. It sometimes scares people and..." He looks pointedly at Professor Snape.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, don't take long." Professor McGonagall moves quickly to the opposite end of the corridor before Harry closes the door and tells the door to lock in parseltongue.

* * *

"Oh." The two students turn to see Moaning Myrtle pouting.

Harry blushes and mumbles his apology, "Sorry."

"Maybe next time?" Myrtle nods hopefully and Harry laughs.

"I'm hoping there won't be a next time. Thanks again for your help. G'night, Myrtle."

"She sounds disappointed." Ron blinks in surprise as Myrtle splashes into her toilet, out of sight.

"I'm alive," Harry shrugs. He takes one more look down the pipe for Professors McGonagall and Snape, but since they have taken a different route, he's not surprised to see nothing but rock.

"Come on then. McGonagall said to meet her at her office. My parents are already there with Ginny." Ron heads to the door impatiently.

"Close," Harry hisses in parseltongue and the sinks react, closing the entrance immediately. Harry follows Ron out of the girl's bathroom.

Ron carries the floppy brown leather and the sword, leaving Harry to carry the diary and brooms. "Think Dumbledore will give me extra house points to win the cup for Gryffindor for saving the school?"

Harry raises an eyebrow in disbelief before responding. "Sure."

Ron swaggers down the hallway "Mum said not to worry about my wand. They'll get me a new one this summer. I guess they've forgiven me for the car now that I saved Ginny."

Not correcting him, Harry just continues walking. "That's nice."

Shooting a glare at Harry over his shoulder, Ron snipes. "You're not the only hero around here, you know."

Narrowing his gaze at Ron, Harry retorts, "I'm not a hero."

Scoffing, Ron grins triumphantly, "Hmph, got that right."

They stand before Professor McGonagall's office, waiting for a response. When the door opens they're welcomed with a cry of relief and are quickly ushered inside.

Harry watches quietly from a distance as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fuss over their children. Mr. Weasley smiles at his son, wrapping a proud arm around him while Mrs. Weasley smothers their youngest with affection. The boy feels utterly out of place as if intruding on a private moment. A familiar pang of emptiness coils in his belly and he blinks back his emotions.

Professor McGonagall joins them in her office, Harry distracts himself from the display of family affection behind him by asking her about the professor's well being. "Thank you for everything, Professor. Is he safe?"

With a kind smile, or as kind as Professor McGonagall can muster, she responds to his inquiry, "Yes, he'll be well cared for. Madam Pomfrey says that he'll be moved to St Mungo's Hospital come morning where he'll be given the best of care. I dare say-"

"I'm sorry, _what_?" His heart stops in his chest and he rudely interrupts her, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "Why is Professor Snape going to St Mungo's Hospital instead of staying in the infirmary? Were we too late to help him? I mean the others are still here. Why does he have to be transferred?" Harry can feel the panic rising inside him, hands ball into fists and his nails dig into his palm in an attempt to calm himself. He can feel the eyes of the Weasley family on him, but he can't seem to care.

"Professor…" Professor McGonagall's eyes widen ever so slightly as Harry's words click into place and the confusion in communication is set to rights, "Oh, no Professor _Lockhart _will be transferred to St Mungo's Hospital. Professor Snape is safely located in the infirmary."

Harry gives her a small relieved smile. While his anxiety is far from abated, he simply feels deflated at the moment and sags under the emotional weight of everything that has transpired this evening. It is about this time that Professor McGonagall's office door creaks open causing a small stir as all weary heads turn. The sight of the new arrival - elegant periwinkle robe, flowing long silvery-white hair and beard, twinkling cerulean eyes peeking over half moon glasses, topped with a pointed hat made to match his robe - fills the entrance. "Good evening, everyone."

Returned greetings fill the office, from 'Evening, Professor' to 'It's about time, Albus' and a 'Welcome back, Headmaster'. Professor Dumbledore smiles in amusement, blue eyes twinkling in the dim light. Professor McGonagall rises from her desk, giving the seat over to the Headmaster. He graciously gives her a small nod of thanks before lowering his narrow frame into the chair.

Cerulean eyes peeking over half moon glasses sweep the room taking everything in at once. "I want to thank you both for dispatching the basilisk. No fatalities this time around, an improvement from fifty years ago." He watches first one boy then the other. Prompting gently, Professor Dumbledore manages to pull the tale of what transpired from the teens. Between the two boys they piece together the tale of their adventure with the Headmaster asking questions while he patiently wades through the responses.

The boys tell about their parts in this adventure. Harry tells about Hermione's discovery of the nature of 'Slytherin's Monster' and giving the clues he learned but not their sources. Ron carefully mentions how he came to be there in the Chamber Corridor with Professor Lockhart and the spell that was reflected back at him. Harry continues with Professor Snape's plan of action, the transfiguring of roosters and the unfortunate petrification of said professor. Harry turns to Ron curious to hear what he says next. Ron is quick to carry on the next bit as he regales the Headmaster about his daring, boastful deeds, how a red bird came with the leather clutched in its claws, how he pulled the sword and was poisoned for his efforts.

"Poisoned by the basilisk and yet you stand here in presumably good health." Professor Dumbledore has a knowing grin and waits for the explanation.

"The red bird that came is a phoenix, you see? He cried on my cut and healed it." Ron proudly displays the torn sleeve dirty, bloody - yet perfectly smooth - skin exposed beneath it. "I thought I was a goner for sure. Don't know where the bird went once it pulled Lockhart out of there."

"What has become of the items brought to you?" Professor Dumbledore's eyes flit to the sword clutched in Ron's right hand expectantly. "Mr. Weasley, if you would be so kind as to place the sword on the desk."

"Oh." Ron sounds disappointed that he has to return the item, "right." With a soft clank of metal, Ron sets the sword on the desk and the leather it was wrapped in he sets aside as well.

Harry looks closer at what he thought as a scrap of leather, grinning as it perks up, shakes itself upright and takes shape once more. "The Sorting Hat? I didn't even recognize it."

"Ah, Mr. Potter! I remember you. Difficult to place, you were. Any regrets?" The Sorting Hat peers back at Harry in its patched leather wisdom.

"Regrets? For being put in Slytherin House?" Harry runs his fingers through his hair, mussing up his already disheveled hair. "I have friends and a girlfriend that like me for me, not the name I carry. Our Head of House makes me work hard, makes me want to learn and looks out for us. While I'm sure other Houses have their merits, no, I don't have any regrets." A look of panic crosses Harry's face, "You can't change your mind and move me, can you?"

"I could, but why would I? I don't make mistakes." The Hat manages to sound offended. Harry breathes a sigh of relief and Professor Dumbledore chuckles softly at their antics.

Setting the leather bound book on the desk, Harry is suddenly very tired. Professor Dumbledore motions for the boys - slimy, dirty and bloody - to take a seat and they do so as the others listen on. "Thank you for taking such good care of Godric Gryffindor's sword, Mr. Weasley."

"Gryffindor's?" Ron stares in wide eyed wonder at the sword he had been mishandling. "Blimey."

"Ronald, language!" Mrs. Weasley admonishes, Ron blushes.

Professor Dumbledore peers at Ginevra, "What I would like to hear about is how Voldemort," everyone in the room sans Harry and the Headmaster shudders, "_enchanted_ Miss Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley teeters, "Enchant Ginny? _My_ Ginny? He… how… oh, my…"

"Um, there is this..." Harry rubs the back of his neck, shooting a questioning glance at Ginevra who shudders and nods.

"And this is?" Professor Dumbledore gingerly takes up the punctured leather bound book.

"It's mine." Professor Dumbledore smiles gently at Ginevra who relaxes at the sight before continuing. Her voice is stronger and more assured. "I found it in my books, thought Mum must have bought it for me." Mrs. Weasley stiffens hearing this and stares at the book with a questioning gaze. "Only it isn't just an ordinary diary." Ginevra moves closer to the desk and turns it over, showing Tom Riddle's name engraved on the cover. "When I was sorted in Slytherin and Ron decided to hate me," Ginevra ignores the scoff of objection coming from her brother and continues, "I wrote my feelings and concerns. He listened. I thought it was a clever bit of magic."

"Dark magic, I'd wager." Harry sees the small nod from Professor Dumbledore.

"Brilliant, but yes, it is Dark magic." Professor Dumbledore looks towards the adults in the room, "it is a little known fact that Lord Voldemort's," again they shudder, "given name is Tom Riddle."

Harry takes up the story, "A teen-aged version of Tom Riddle spoke to us in the Chamber of Secrets. Said he was using Weaselette's soul to bring himself back using this diary. Everything that happened: the opening of the Chamber, the killing of the roosters, petrification of students was orchestrated by Riddle through Weaselette." Someone behind Harry gasps. "After the transfigured roosters were crowing, the basilisk was thrashing blindly in pain and impaled its face on the sword. With the basilisk dead, there was still the matter of Tom Riddle and a dying Weaselette. Ron was fading from the poison and I was at a bit of a loss. I accidently nicked the side of the diary with the tip of the sword and it hurt Riddle. So I took a chance, stabbed the diary and he went poof. Weaselette woke up shortly after and here we are."

"Arthur, Molly, I'm sure your youngest could use some rest after her stressful ordeal. Would you two escort her to the infirmary?" While this request is formed as a question, even the students recognize it as a dismissal. "I'm sure Poppy would like to take a look at her before allowing her to join her House." Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nod their assent, but no one moves as the Headmaster continues. "Minerva, after the Ministry is notified of today's events, tell them I expect our Gamekeeper to be returned."

"Of course, Albus." Professor McGonagall gives a stiff nod.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"With Professor Snape petrified, who will make that Mandrake potion?" Harry wipes his palms down his pant legs, suddenly wishing for a long hot shower.

"Ah, not to worry, Harry, I will contact an old colleague who will make the Restorative Draught. He taught potions and was Head of Slytherin House before Professor Snape." Professor Dumbledore gives the boy a reassuring nod, "I'm sure he will be more than happy to help. Besides, we will need someone to teach the potions classes until the Mandrakes are fully matured in a week or so."

Professor McGonagall makes an odd gurgled choking sound, "Horace Slughorn?"

"The same," Professor Dumbledore has that same knowing grin. Harry watches and drops his gaze hesitating to ask any further questions, allowing the Headmaster to continue, "Now, Mr. Weasley, if you would, assist Professor McGonagall. Mr. Potter if you'd be so kind as to help me bring these items back to my office."

Once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usher Ginevra out the door, Professor Dumbledore rises from the chair to walk to the door. Professor McGonagall busies herself at her desk, "You can leave the brooms for now, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry grabs the diary, Sorting Hat and Gryffindor's sword before making his way towards the Headmaster.

Professor Dumbledore looks at both Ron and Harry, "I'm quite proud of you both." He pointedly ignores the scowl from Professor McGonagall, "I believe you both deserve a Special Award for Service to the School and two hundred points to each of your Houses." He nods, satisfied with the reward given before taking a step backwards allowing Harry to exit first.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"He knew me."

"Hmm, I see." Professor Dumbledore didn't elaborate on what exactly he saw, but he did impart a confident grin. That grin did nothing to calm Harry, his stomach was still in nervous knots. "Perhaps this conversation is best kept until we are in my office."

Harry kept quiet, knowing the Headmaster was right and feeling silly for bringing it up too soon. Still, it weighs heavily on his mind. Tom Riddle, much like Lord Voldemort, was very keen on killing Harry.

Professor Dumbledore mumbles the password to the stone gargoyle and watches patiently as it hops out of the way. As the stairs spiral upwards, he steps gingerly forward, allowing the stairs to bring him towards his office. Harry quickly follows, careful of the sword, which is still a bloody mess.

"Please, please…" Professor Dumbledore gives the boy a small grin over his shoulder, "do come in."

Harry grins when he catches sight of the phoenix. "It's the red bird! Is he yours, Professor?"

Looking at the bird in question over his half-moon spectacles, Professor Dumbledore smiles, "Ah yes, you've met Fawkes. Yes, Harry, he is my familiar and my friend."

Stepping up to the bird, Harry grins at Fawkes, "Pleasure to meet you officially, Fawkes. Thanks again for your help down there."

Fawkes trills in response.

Harry looks around at the rest of the office. It is a spacious room better lit than Professor McGonagall's. With portraits all around them, Harry turns in a circle to see them all. Each one is napping and Harry grins as he catches one peeking at him. "Who are all these portraits of, sir?"

"Each is a former Headmaster of Hogwarts." Professor Dumbledore glances at the boy before motioning him forward.

Harry walks over to Professor Dumbledore's desk and gently lays the sword across it. While Professor Dumbledore takes the Sorting Hat and puts it back on its shelf. "You were saying…"

"He knew of our encounters, Tom Riddle had all Voldemort's memories and he wanted..." Harry shudders and drops his gaze, "to kill me."

"That is disturbing," Professor Dumbledore takes a seat behind his desk, "I can see how that would trouble you."

He motions for Harry to take a seat. Reluctantly Harry sinks into the chair, feeling this may be the only way to get any answers. "Professor…"

"Hmmm…"

"I'm sure you've heard by now that I'm a Parselmouth…"

"Yes, I've heard." Professor Dumbledore weighs his words before continuing, "I'm sure that caused a bit of stir among the students." Harry tries to hide his amusement at first, at least until the Headmaster chuckles, "Yes, I also heard talk of more than one heir. Madam Pince mentioned something about a number of students speaking Parseltongue in the library."

Harry grins remembering that day in the library but doesn't offer any further insight. Professor Dumbledore continues, "I believe, Mr. Potter, that Voldemort inadvertently transferred some of his power, including the gift of Parseltongue, to you when he gave you that scar."

"So I have some of _him_… well, that's even more disturbing than being a Parselmouth." Harry rubs his scar. "Is that why it hurts sometimes?"

The young teen jumps in surprise as the Headmaster's office door bangs open. Harry is on his feet, grabs his wand and quickly makes his way around the chair in a defensive maneuver. Professor Dumbledore simply watches over his spectacles, hands steepled on his desk as the man enters blustering and annoyed, white blond hair, piercing grey stormy eyes and an aristocratic air. He can be only one man. "So, it's true then. You have returned."

* * *

**AN:** I posted an alternate work around piece for Chapter 31 for getting Ron & Lockhart into the Chamber of Secrets. It was suggested by seriesofdamnits called Double Trouble, told in POV of the Weasley twins.


	33. Restoration

**Restoration**

A week with Professor Slughorn substituting for Professor Snape has Harry ducking corners every time the man draws near. His boisterous laughter and constant bragging about important contacts is annoying, only that isn't what has Harry hiding. It is the idea of being one of his chosen ones that has Harry feeling a tad ill. Much to Harry's surprise, Blaise found the whole thing rather harmless. As he told Harry, this is a great opportunity to observe Professor Slughorn's ways of manipulation and encourages Harry to join him in the Slug Club.

Professor Dumbledore has been sitting in for Professor Lockhart who has taken up permanent residence in St Mungo's. This arrangement is a bit more pleasant as far as Harry is concerned. He feels he has actually learned more during that week than the whole year with Professor Lockhart.

There was no fanfare when Hagrid came back from Azkaban. Very few people knew he was gone, even fewer know why. When the half giant caught up to Harry, he pats him so hard on the shoulder the boy's knees buckle under the pressure.

As always in Hogwarts, when something is kept quiet, the whole school learns of it in record time. Some facts are misinterpreted, others completely fabricated.

The Weasley twins find Harry and Jason sitting out under the tree near the lake. "There you are," Harry looks up from his book, Jason looks up from trying to transfigure a rock into a rooster.

"We've been looking for you,"

"Ron's been bragging,"

"But we know better,"

"Thanks for saving Ginny." The twins finish the thought together. Fred, the closest twin - or at least Harry thinks this one is Fred - crouches beside him. The other twin - possibly George - leans against the tree.

Harry shrugs, "I was just helping Professor Snape. If it wasn't for him, I would never have gone down there, your brother would have been obliviated and Weaselette would still be down there."

"Ah but you did go down,"

"Opened the Chamber,"

"Stupefied Lockhart,"

"And killed the big snake,"

The twins grin, "Mostly we like the part where you stun Lockhart."

Jason keeps quiet, but grins. Harry laughs and shakes his head, "I never admitted to that."

"Don't have to,"

"Ron can't hex, jinx or curse."

"It's a charm actually, common misconception." Jason quickly explains while Harry looks as innocent as possible and the Weasley twins blink in surprise. The two refuse to be swayed from their search for the truth so easily.

"Why let Ron take the credit,

"For knocking Lockhart out?"

Harry shrugs, "Does it matter who did it? I know the truth and so does Weasley. We are the only two who do, seeing how Lockhart's memory is gone. Let him have his glory."

"Why?" Fred peers at Harry.

"You're up to something." George smirks.

Harry grins and stands. "Always a pleasure, gentlemen."

"See ya," Jason stows his wand and quickly follows. Once they're out of earshot of the twins, Jason can't help but ask. "Okay, what are you really up to?"

"It's kept Malfoy distracted, for now."

"What?" Jason frowns, "What does Malfoy have to do with this?"

"Simple. He's angry over his father losing the position on the Board of Governors and Weasley's taking full credit for _everything_ that's happened down there." Harry glances back at the two behind them. "Better that Malfoy hexes the Weasel than me."

Jason chuckles and the boys make their way to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry slips into a seat and Jason takes the one beside him, taking up the spot across from Blaise. "Where have you two been?"

"Under the tree by the lake," Harry shoots a glance in Draco's direction and keeps the rest of the explanation quiet. Blaise notes the reaction and drops it until they can pick up the conversation again in private.

A commotion along with sporadic cheering catches their attention. The three friends look up in time to see those who were once petrified and forced to exist as living statues enter the Great Hall, once again in the flesh. He's up before he realizes it, moving towards the door so enthralled by her appearance that he doesn't hear Blaise say his name. He is smiling from ear to ear, uncaring who is watching; she's running towards him, crying out his name. She flings her arms around his neck and he holds her tightly against him. Harry buries his face in her neck, inhaling deeply with a sigh of relief. "I thought I lost you."

"You aren't getting rid of me that easily." Hermione giggles, "I'm so glad you figured it out!"

"Thanks to you." He murmurs in her hair. Harry's breath tickles her skin and Hermione shivers. Someone clears his throat and Harry pulls back immediately, a pang of embarrassment causes him to blush a deep crimson. Hermione clings to Harry's sleeve, half hidden behind him. "Good evening, sir."

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape raises an eyebrow at the display he broke up, "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, sir, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not remind anyone that I was anywhere near the Chamber of Secrets." Harry steals a glance towards the Slytherin table and back to his Head of House. "Malfoy is upset over his father."

"I see." He clears his throat again and glances at Hermione, "Very well, the feast is beginning. Find your seats." Professor Snape makes his way to the head table, leaving the two alone - or as alone as two people can be during dinner time in the Great Hall.

Harry turns back to Hermione and she giggles, "I missed your laugh." Harry takes her hand and walks her to the Ravenclaw table. He hesitates, "Hermione…" She smiles up at him and he sighs, leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. "Welcome back."

* * *

**AN**: I'm taking a short break from my Slytherin!Harry in order to write a companion / prequel story that came to mind and insists on being written named _A Potter_. I will be back to writing year 3 with Harry, Jason, Blaise and Hermione.


	34. Sneak Peek - Year 3 Begins

**AN:** Year 3 has begun with _SDDJ: Auld Lang Syne_. Preview of first chapter is below…

Harry Potter's staggering steps ended abruptly at the bus stop that was two - or was it three? - blocks from Number 4 Privet Drive. He dropped the end of his trunk, set down his snowy owl Hedwig's cage on top and thought about his next course of action. He sat on the trunk and sighed heavily. He looked around at the darkness, the stormy clouds over head and the eerily quiet play park he passed on his left. His voice was soft and reflective. "Way to go, Potter. _Now_ what are you going to do?"

He'd send a note to one of his best friends - Jason Vaisey or Blaise Zabini - but Hedwig was off hunting and there's no telling when she'd be back. The Leaky Cauldron was an inn as well as a thorough way, but it was all the way in London. Harry was directionally challenged so he couldn't just walk there and he had no Muggle money.

Running his fingers through his hair, Harry heard a rustle and whipped around, wand in hand pointed at the bushes. Aurors should be sorting things at the Dursley's home. None would be lurking in bushes. Maybe running out like this wasn't exactly his brightest move.

Harry took a step back and peered at the bushes. He saw something shimmer or shine - gold or was it green - and were those eyes staring at him? A thread thinned voice wheezed in the moonlit night behind him, "Harry!"

He whipped around towards the voice, wand still raised, staring at the large figure moving surprisingly fast towards him. While he lowered his wand, he didn't feel safe enough to put it away. Harry glanced towards the bushes behind him but he no longer saw the eyes that glowed at him. Maybe it was his imagination after all. "What are you doing out here, Dudley?"

"I…" Panting, his cousin - Dudley Dursley - waved him off. "I just… she's wrong…" Hands on his knees, Dudley took deep breaths, "Blimey, I need to get in shape."


End file.
